


The Story of a Son

by simplymoa



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-26
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplymoa/pseuds/simplymoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has many colorful names: Melancholia, Mania, Dual-Form Insanity, a Silent Killer. Tommy has "it". He just doesn't know it yet....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story deals with a very serious illness. So it might be triggering for some people. If you feel you are identifying with Tommy, instead of using the story as a diagnose tool, please seek professional help.

Tommy Joe peeked out from the corner of the stage at the venue, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw the thousands of fans gathered. "Wow," he breathed, there were so many girls out there.

"Guess they're excited about Adam," Allison cracked, noting the screams that erupted as some of the girls in the audience spotted them.

Tommy nodded and turned back around to face his band mates, plastering a smile on his face. He had no idea why he felt as tired and grumpy as he did…but he did. Even now, he looked around at the grins on the faces of his friends, and he knew theirs were genuine. But he just didn't feel it. Yeah, this was kinda cool, this was wonderful, even, _he_ knew that on an intellectual level. Emotionally, though, he just wanted to crawl into bed and go back to sleep. He followed the other guys to the stage and clutched his guitar tight, hoping that he would not mess up during the show. He normally was able to play without any problem, but things could get disastrous when he felt all fuzzy like this.

The less he drew any attention to himself, the better, he told himself. He fought groaning when Adam grinded up against him during ‘Fever’, and smiled instead as the girls screamed. Head tilt, a little bit of tongue, there you go; they were all hot and bothered. It was all so easy…he mused…don't they realize how artificial it is? His act with Adam, the fans’ reaction…all done according to formula, created, fake. Or so it felt, anyway…

Tommy sighed and smiled at the cameras in the audience, counting the minutes until the show was over. He'd go back to the hotel, go to sleep. He was happy when he was sleeping, that he could always count on.

****************************************

  
  
"I'm bored," Tommy bounced up and down impatiently on the hotel bed, his brown eyes twinkling.  
  
"You said when we were backstage that you wanted to sleep," Isaac reminded him, flipping channels on the television.  
  
"I'm not tired anymore," he shrugged, and jumped off the bed. "So? What are we going to do?"  
  
"Watch television and order room service, like we'd planned on doing," Isaac waved at the television.  
  
Tommy frowned and walked over to the window, looking outside. "Shouldn't we go out clubbing or something?"  
  
"David, Sasha and Terrance went out."  
  
"We should have gone with them," Tommy banged his head against the windowpane, laughing when he heard a weird clank. "Hey, is this glass two layers, do you think?" He started pulling at the top of the window, trying to see how thick the glass was.  
  
"Will you stop it dude?" Isaac glared at his friend, shaking his head slowly. "You're giving me a headache. Sit still."  
  
"Fine," Tommy walked over to the bed and plopped down, watching the television for a moment before looking for another form of entertainment. He spied the PS3 lying in a corner and his eyes lit up. "Wanna play a game?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"We got food coming soon."  
  
"Food's good," Tommy grinned, "but that's why the PS3 has a pause button. We can stop it, it's no big deal. We can eat first."  
  
"We can play after dinner, OK, Tommy?"  
  
"What are we going to do _until_ dinner then?" He whined, rolling his eyes at Isaac. "There's nothing on TV."  
  
"You like this show, man," Isaac said in exasperation, gesturing to the TV. "You love it, in fact."  
  
"It's too slow," Tommy replied, not noticing Isaac's confusion at his answer. "TV's too slow."  
  
"Too slow?"  
  
Tommy jumped up and ran to the door, smiling. "I'm going to go see what Monte's up to. Call me when dinner gets here?"  
  
"Oh, won't Monte love you while you're like this," Isaac said sarcastically, watching the door close behind Tommy. He couldn't help but chuckle. Tommy was entertainment, if nothing else…and Monte's reaction to Tommy when he got like this was even better. He got up to follow Tommy, grabbing his camera as he left. Pictures are worth a thousand words, as they say…and an irritated Monte is always fun caught on picture.  
  
*******************************************  
  
"What the hell do you want, Tommy?"  
  
Isaac entered the room just in time to hear Monte’s grumble, and Tommy was staring at him with a hurt expression on his face. "What?"  
  
"Monte’s being a jerk, forget it," Tommy pushed his way past Isaac and walked out of the room, leaving the two guys looking at each other in surprise.  
  
"What was that?" Monte asked Isaac, running a hand through his hair. "He walked in here while I was on the phone with Lisa and started messing with the window, and I'm the jerk?"  
  
"He's in a mood," Isaac said as an explanation, shaking his head. "Bored."  
  
"I'm bored too, but I'm not trying to tear my room apart."  
  
"You're not Tommy."  
  
"And thank god for that…"  
  
"Fuck you," Tommy was standing in the doorway, looking at the two of them angrily.  
  
"You left?" Monte looked at Tommy, his green eyes wide in frustration. "Tommy, come on, calm down. I’m sorry man, OK?"  
  
"No," Tommy's head spun as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he smiled when he saw David stepping out of the elevator. "Hey man!"  
  
"Tommy!" David slurred, sauntering down the hall and grabbing Tommy in a hug, "How ya doing?"  
  
"Bored, save me?"  
  
"No problem," David grinned, peeking his head into Monte’s room to wave at him and Isaac before leading Tommy to his room. "What's gotten into you, Tommy?" He asked as he opened the door and waved him in.  
  
"Isaac doesn't want to do anything, Monte’s being a prick, nothing new," Tommy shrugged, sitting down on the couch and looking at David. "Where'd you go?"  
  
"Out," He opened up the mini-bar and looked at the offering, before making a face. "I've had enough booze for one night, I think, I'm wired as hell. Time to come down."  
  
"I heard the next three shows are all sold out," Tommy replied. Adam had just started his Glam Nation tour. And while Tommy knew that the sold out shows were essential for Adam’s survival and success as an artist, he just couldn't really seem to care…it seemed so unimportant, in the grand scheme of things. He looked at the window and grinned, figuring David wouldn't stop him from checking. "Do you think the window is two layers?"  
  
"Do I care?" David shot back, laughing at Tommy as he walked over to the window and started banging on it. "Alright, I'm wired, but I'm drunk. You seem sober though, so what's your excuse?"  
  
"This sounds single layered," Tommy knocked on the window and scrunched his nose.  
  
"You need to chill, man," David said, raising his hands in apology when Tommy whirled around to glare at him. "Hey, just stating the facts, you're off the wall."  
  
Tommy sighed and sat down on the bed, "Cabin fever, that's all."  
  
"One sec, I'll calm ya down," David smiled, holding up a small glass pipe and a bag.  
  
Tommy he looked at the green contents of the bag. "Pot?"  
  
"Yeah, it’s good shit," David packed the pipe and handed it to Tommy. "Smoke up. You'll calm down."  
  
Tommy stared at the pipe for a moment, the familiar sweet smell of its contents tickling his nose. He didn't do drugs…not regularly at least…but he couldn't seem to calm down…he could see his hands shaking as he held the pipe. With a nod, he accepted the lighter David handed him, flicked it to life, and sure enough…he calmed down.  
  
********************************************  
  
  
"Tommy, smile," Cam hissed at him, gesturing to the fans with her chin.  
  
"I'm smiling," Tommy shot back through clenched teeth, forcing his face into a wide grin. Don't people realize your face gets tired after holding a smile for that long? It's not natural…that wide of a grin, for hours, and hours…  
  
"Why are your eyes red?" Adam asked him softly, as he walked beside Tommy toward the buses, while smiling and waving at the fans.  
  
"Tired," Tommy shrugged, his eyes now locked on the pavement, "Couldn’t sleep last night."  
  
"What did you do last night?" Adam asked with a concerned expression on his face. Tommy had locked himself in his hotel room right after they'd arrived, and none of them had seen him again until this morning.  
  
"Nothing. Played games, watched TV."  
  
"If you can't sleep, you should come talk to me," Adam said softly, frowning when Tommy just rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, you look like shit."  
  
As they climbed into the bus, Tommy bit his lip and glared at the pavement, determined not to respond. Sure, Adam cared that Tommy couldn't sleep. Why? Because he looked like shit in the morning when he couldn't…  
  
"We're gonna get something to eat. Coming, Tommy?" Isaac looked at his friend, who was digging through his backpack.  
  
"Not hungry," Tommy mumbled, pulling out a bottle of Advil and taking two dry. "I'm going to bed."  
  
"You're not hungry." David said in amazement, looking Tommy up and down. "You dying or something?"  
  
"Fuck you, I'm just not hungry," Tommy zipped up his backpack and stormed off toward the back of the bus.  
  
"Tommy's not hungry. The world's ending," David cracked, making a face when Isaac didn't laugh. "What? It's funny!"  
  
Isaac shook his head slowly, watching the blond figure barrel down Sutan, totally without regard for anyone else. "Tommy's not acting like himself…"  
  
"Tommy never acts like himself," David laughed, giving Isaac a push towards the kitchenette. "Come on, let's go get food, worrying about Tommy will only make you as nuts as he is."  
  
"It's the stress of the tour," Cam offered, joining up with the guys. "Right?"  
  
"It's Tommy, that's all," David insisted. "He's just being pissy. He'll be fine."  
  
Isaac nodded, and followed everyone to the bus kitchenette. Yeah, Tommy was always fine…but for the life of him, he couldn't remember the last time Tommy had been anything more than that…weren't people supposed to be better than just fine?  
  
   
**************************************  
  
Tommy sat tapping a pencil on his knee, wishing the long meeting could just be over. Hours, and hours, and hours of going over one arena after another…he rolled his eyes as Adam found something else to object over, and began doing a piano accompaniment on the table.  
  
Isaac noticed Tommy's private concert, and elbowed him in the ribs, "Stop it."  
  
"This is nuts." Tommy whispered back, stopping the chords he was playing with his hand on the table, but continuing his drum solo on his knee. "Who the fuck cares what kind of soda they put in the dressing room?"  
  
"Shhhh." Isaac glared at him, and returned his eyes to the contract about the second leg of the tour in front of him. Unlike Tommy, he was going to read it before signing it, these things were far too important not to.  
  
Tommy looked at the papers in front of him, sighing heavily. It wasn't that he didn't want to read it, or even that he didn't care about what was in it, he did. But he'd get two lines in and get impatient, his eyes jumping ahead to the next line before he'd finished reading the one he was on. He picked up the paper again, biting his lip as he concentrated on the first line. His brown eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the words, reading them letter by letter. Just go slow, read it carefully, he told himself, throwing the papers back on the table in frustration when he found himself staring at the bottom of the page. Dammit.  
  
"That's enough, Tommy," Adam said firmly to him, standing up. "We're done, OK?"  
  
"Good," Tommy grabbed the papers and shoved them into his bag, promising himself he would read them later. Calm himself down somehow, so he could read every word. "What now?"  
  
**************************************  
  
"Hey buddy," Tommy walked into David's room and sat down on the couch, looking at him questioningly. "Whatcha doing?"  
  
"I was gonna hit the hay, actually," David replied, waving to his clothes, or lack thereof. "What do you want?"  
  
Tommy frowned, and bit his lip. He wanted more of that pot, was what he wanted…. "I'm all wired again, can't seem to calm down."  
  
David's eyes narrowed and he looked at Tommy carefully. "Can't sleep?"  
  
Tommy snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Can't sit still long enough to get into bed, even."  
  
David got up and went into another room, returning with a small box he tossed at Tommy. "Knock yourself out. Next time you buy, OK?"  
  
Tommy opened the box and smiled when he saw the contents, the glass pipe and baggie of marijuana sitting underneath a bag of potpourri. "Dried flowers?"  
  
"So it doesn't stink too bad," David explained. "The good stuff, it smells, you know that."  
  
Tommy nodded solemnly and closed the box, standing up with a smile. "Thanks, man."  
  
"No problem, get some sleep," David waved.  
  
Tommy returned to his room and quickly packed the pipe, sighing in relief when he felt the first effects of the drug flow through his body. "Much better," he whispered to himself, sitting down and turning on the television. As he smoked, he impatiently flipped channels, smiling when he finally felt calm enough to settle in on one program.  
  
Soon enough, he found his gaze wandering, and his eyes fell on the bag in the corner holding the contract he'd struggled to read earlier. "I wonder…." He mused, pulling out the papers and looking them over. He started to read and shook his head, knowing he was still far too wound up for that. "But…" he grinned and picked up the box David had given him, pulling out the pipe again.  
  
"How much of this to calm me down enough so I can read, do you think?" He asked the pipe, chuckling to himself when it didn't answer. Sitting back on the bed, he smoked another bowl, laughing to himself over the insanity of what he was doing. Getting stoned, so he could read a contract…  
  
But it worked, he soon found out. He picked up the pages, and focused in on the first line. One word at a time, he followed the text, his brow wrinkling as he worked to translate the mess of legalese he was looking at. "Forthwith!" he said with a smirk, enjoying the way the word sounded on his tongue.  
  
"Forthwith!" Whatever the fuck it meant, anyway, he thought, returning his gaze to the papers in front of him.  
  
For the first time he could ever remember, Tommy read, and understood, every single word of a contract he'd signed.  
  
"God bless David," he whispered as he collapsed into bed, his mind a haze from the massive amount of THC running through his system. "And God bless marijuana…"  
  
********************************************  
  
"You smoked it all?" David was looking for said marijuana a week later, and was extremely dismayed to find the blond man had none left. "Aw man, you could have left me some."  
  
"It calmed me down," Tommy shrugged, and smiled. He'd had a really good two nights, while the supply had lasted, anyway. He'd watched two movies he'd been meaning to see, read a book he'd been dying to read, and, of course, read his contract cover to cover, which he was still very proud of himself for doing. "I'll buy you more, just tell me how."  
  
"Next week, when we're back in the US, I'll hook you up," David replied with a smirk.”I didn’t know you like this shit.”  
  
"Better than alcohol," Tommy said with a wave. He couldn't think straight when he was drunk, but with pot, it was the stark opposite. He also tended to be in an awful mood the morning after he had been drinking, whereas with the marijuana, he was in a happy daze until afternoon, when his usual funk would set in.  
  
"You don't smoke, Tommy, don't start." David warned, looking at him closely.  
  
Tommy laughed and shook his head rapidly. "Don't worry, man."  
  
"What are you doing tonight?" David asked. His had plans to go clubbing, although it would have been nice to have gotten stoned beforehand.  
  
Tommy shrugged. He was in a decent mood, for once, and didn't feel like doing much of anything. "Just going to hang out here, do nothing."  
  
"Alright, have fun," David waved as he left the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
Tommy plugged in his PS3 and settled in, grinning as he worked his way through his latest game. "Simple," he scoffed at the enemies charging at him, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw his timing was off. "Dammit," he restarted the game and ran through the fight sequence again, looking in amazement at the screen as he again lost. "I know I hit that combo right!" He growled at the television before trying again, pounding the controller in the carefully timed sequence he could see he was doing a few seconds too quickly. "What the fuck…" he threw the controller across the room in his frustration and kicked the PS3 onto the floor, only smiling when it hit the ground with a resounding clank.  
  
"Stupid PS3," he grumbled, picking up the remote control and flicking on the television. He frowned when he saw his hand shaking, and quickly dropped the remote, rubbing his palm. Dammit…he probably tried to do that too fast…  
  
Tommy got up and undressed for bed, rolling his eyes when he found himself wide awake once he'd turned off the lights. "Of course…I felt fine earlier...but now?" Now he wanted to go run a marathon….  
  
He closed his eyes and concentrated on sleepy thoughts, walking along the beach at sunset, curling up in a pile of blankets, happy, tired, sleepy thoughts….his eyes shot open when he felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him, and he stared at the ceiling. How could he feel dizzy when he was lying flat on his back? Because his mind was spinning so fast….he answered his own thought as he felt it, quickly followed by another one. Why couldn't he just stop thinking?  
  
He sat up and grabbed his head in frustration, squeezing his temple tight. He didn't want to think now, he wanted to go to sleep….he started laughing when a melody popped into his mind, a really cool one; he of course wanted to write down. He could sit for hours trying to think of a tune, but now? He could write a symphony…  
  
"Fine," Tommy gave up on sleep and got out of bed, turning on the lights again and grabbing a notebook. He picked up a pencil and began writing out the melody that had popped into his mind, quickly losing himself in the minutiae of whether or not to use an eighth note or a whole note to start the tune.  
  
******************************************************  
  
Tommy batted at the hands shaking him and rolled over, burying his head in his pillows. "I haven't heard my wakeup call yet," he mumbled to whoever was there, not caring who it was, what they wanted.  
  
"That's because you slept through it, genius," Isaac smacked at Tommy again, laughing at him. "Wake up, we gotta go."  
  
"Sleep. I want sleep." Tommy shot back, pulling the blanket over his head.  
  
"Tommy? We're going to do the X-Factor. This is cool, remember?"  
  
"I donwanna." He whined through the blanket, kicking at Isaac's shape on the bed next to him.  
  
"Jesus, Tommy, this isn't funny, just get out of bed, ok?" Isaac smacked at Tommy one last time before leaving him alone, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Tommy slowly emerged from the covers once Isaac had left, frowning at the tears he felt in his eyes. He just wanted to sleep in, for once…was that so wrong? They never got to sleep….he hadn't gotten to bed until nearly sunrise, he'd been working away on his new song and had just lost track of time.  
  
He got out of bed and stepped into the shower. Quickly washing his hair and face, he dressed and grabbed his bag, joining the others in the hallway. "Hi," he said softly, leaning up against the wall and ignoring everyone's curious looks.  
  
"Hi." Adam looked at him closely, his eyes narrowing when he saw Tommy's eyes. "Your eyes are red."  
  
"That's why they make eye drops." Tommy replied, turning away with a frown. "It's nothing."  
  
"Did you sleep?" Adam tried again.  
  
Isaac started laughing and nodded firmly. "Oh yeah, he slept, trust me, he got enough sleep."  
  
Tommy bit his lip and nodded his agreement, sighing with relief when the girls showed up and the attention was off of him. He'd barely gotten any sleep…but that was alright…if he'd learned anything, it was once he woke himself up, he'd be OK. He just had to wake himself up, that was all… "Coffee," he said to Adam, smiling when the man nodded in reply. "Just give me coffee, I'll be fine."  
  
"Coffee it is, then," Adam said, putting an arm comfortingly around Tommy and walking with him to the elevator. "Coffee cures all ails."  
  
"Yeah, coffee," Tommy rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of some of the fog he still felt in his head. He hadn't smoked anything, drank anything, nothing. And he still felt all fuzzy…. "Like a pot, maybe." Then, maybe, he'd feel awake.  
  
Maybe.  
  
He never seemed to know for sure anymore, did he?  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has many colorful names: Melancholia, Mania, Dual-Form Insanity, a Silent Killer. Tommy has "it". He just doesn't know it yet....

Tommy Joe peeked out from the corner of the stage at the venue, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw the thousands of fans gathered. "Wow," he breathed, there were so many girls out there.

"Guess they're excited about Adam," Allison cracked, noting the screams that erupted as some of the girls in the audience spotted them.

Tommy nodded and turned back around to face his band mates, plastering a smile on his face. He had no idea why he felt as tired and grumpy as he did…but he did. Even now, he looked around at the grins on the faces of his friends, and he knew theirs were genuine. But he just didn't feel it. Yeah, this was kinda cool, this was wonderful, even, _he_ knew that on an intellectual level. Emotionally, though, he just wanted to crawl into bed and go back to sleep. He followed the other guys to the stage and clutched his guitar tight, hoping that he would not mess up during the show. He normally was able to play without any problem, but things could get disastrous when he felt all fuzzy like this.

The less he drew any attention to himself, the better, he told himself. He fought groaning when Adam grinded up against him during ‘Fever’, and smiled instead as the girls screamed. Head tilt, a little bit of tongue, there you go; they were all hot and bothered. It was all so easy…he mused…don't they realize how artificial it is? His act with Adam, the fans’ reaction…all done according to formula, created, fake. Or so it felt, anyway…

Tommy sighed and smiled at the cameras in the audience, counting the minutes until the show was over. He'd go back to the hotel, go to sleep. He was happy when he was sleeping, that he could always count on.

****************************************

  
  
"I'm bored," Tommy bounced up and down impatiently on the hotel bed, his brown eyes twinkling.  
  
"You said when we were backstage that you wanted to sleep," Isaac reminded him, flipping channels on the television.  
  
"I'm not tired anymore," he shrugged, and jumped off the bed. "So? What are we going to do?"  
  
"Watch television and order room service, like we'd planned on doing," Isaac waved at the television.  
  
Tommy frowned and walked over to the window, looking outside. "Shouldn't we go out clubbing or something?"  
  
"David, Sasha and Terrance went out."  
  
"We should have gone with them," Tommy banged his head against the windowpane, laughing when he heard a weird clank. "Hey, is this glass two layers, do you think?" He started pulling at the top of the window, trying to see how thick the glass was.  
  
"Will you stop it dude?" Isaac glared at his friend, shaking his head slowly. "You're giving me a headache. Sit still."  
  
"Fine," Tommy walked over to the bed and plopped down, watching the television for a moment before looking for another form of entertainment. He spied the PS3 lying in a corner and his eyes lit up. "Wanna play a game?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"We got food coming soon."  
  
"Food's good," Tommy grinned, "but that's why the PS3 has a pause button. We can stop it, it's no big deal. We can eat first."  
  
"We can play after dinner, OK, Tommy?"  
  
"What are we going to do _until_ dinner then?" He whined, rolling his eyes at Isaac. "There's nothing on TV."  
  
"You like this show, man," Isaac said in exasperation, gesturing to the TV. "You love it, in fact."  
  
"It's too slow," Tommy replied, not noticing Isaac's confusion at his answer. "TV's too slow."  
  
"Too slow?"  
  
Tommy jumped up and ran to the door, smiling. "I'm going to go see what Monte's up to. Call me when dinner gets here?"  
  
"Oh, won't Monte love you while you're like this," Isaac said sarcastically, watching the door close behind Tommy. He couldn't help but chuckle. Tommy was entertainment, if nothing else…and Monte's reaction to Tommy when he got like this was even better. He got up to follow Tommy, grabbing his camera as he left. Pictures are worth a thousand words, as they say…and an irritated Monte is always fun caught on picture.  
  
*******************************************  
  
"What the hell do you want, Tommy?"  
  
Isaac entered the room just in time to hear Monte’s grumble, and Tommy was staring at him with a hurt expression on his face. "What?"  
  
"Monte’s being a jerk, forget it," Tommy pushed his way past Isaac and walked out of the room, leaving the two guys looking at each other in surprise.  
  
"What was that?" Monte asked Isaac, running a hand through his hair. "He walked in here while I was on the phone with Lisa and started messing with the window, and I'm the jerk?"  
  
"He's in a mood," Isaac said as an explanation, shaking his head. "Bored."  
  
"I'm bored too, but I'm not trying to tear my room apart."  
  
"You're not Tommy."  
  
"And thank god for that…"  
  
"Fuck you," Tommy was standing in the doorway, looking at the two of them angrily.  
  
"You left?" Monte looked at Tommy, his green eyes wide in frustration. "Tommy, come on, calm down. I’m sorry man, OK?"  
  
"No," Tommy's head spun as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he smiled when he saw David stepping out of the elevator. "Hey man!"  
  
"Tommy!" David slurred, sauntering down the hall and grabbing Tommy in a hug, "How ya doing?"  
  
"Bored, save me?"  
  
"No problem," David grinned, peeking his head into Monte’s room to wave at him and Isaac before leading Tommy to his room. "What's gotten into you, Tommy?" He asked as he opened the door and waved him in.  
  
"Isaac doesn't want to do anything, Monte’s being a prick, nothing new," Tommy shrugged, sitting down on the couch and looking at David. "Where'd you go?"  
  
"Out," He opened up the mini-bar and looked at the offering, before making a face. "I've had enough booze for one night, I think, I'm wired as hell. Time to come down."  
  
"I heard the next three shows are all sold out," Tommy replied. Adam had just started his Glam Nation tour. And while Tommy knew that the sold out shows were essential for Adam’s survival and success as an artist, he just couldn't really seem to care…it seemed so unimportant, in the grand scheme of things. He looked at the window and grinned, figuring David wouldn't stop him from checking. "Do you think the window is two layers?"  
  
"Do I care?" David shot back, laughing at Tommy as he walked over to the window and started banging on it. "Alright, I'm wired, but I'm drunk. You seem sober though, so what's your excuse?"  
  
"This sounds single layered," Tommy knocked on the window and scrunched his nose.  
  
"You need to chill, man," David said, raising his hands in apology when Tommy whirled around to glare at him. "Hey, just stating the facts, you're off the wall."  
  
Tommy sighed and sat down on the bed, "Cabin fever, that's all."  
  
"One sec, I'll calm ya down," David smiled, holding up a small glass pipe and a bag.  
  
Tommy he looked at the green contents of the bag. "Pot?"  
  
"Yeah, it’s good shit," David packed the pipe and handed it to Tommy. "Smoke up. You'll calm down."  
  
Tommy stared at the pipe for a moment, the familiar sweet smell of its contents tickling his nose. He didn't do drugs…not regularly at least…but he couldn't seem to calm down…he could see his hands shaking as he held the pipe. With a nod, he accepted the lighter David handed him, flicked it to life, and sure enough…he calmed down.  
  
********************************************  
  
  
"Tommy, smile," Cam hissed at him, gesturing to the fans with her chin.  
  
"I'm smiling," Tommy shot back through clenched teeth, forcing his face into a wide grin. Don't people realize your face gets tired after holding a smile for that long? It's not natural…that wide of a grin, for hours, and hours…  
  
"Why are your eyes red?" Adam asked him softly, as he walked beside Tommy toward the buses, while smiling and waving at the fans.  
  
"Tired," Tommy shrugged, his eyes now locked on the pavement, "Couldn’t sleep last night."  
  
"What did you do last night?" Adam asked with a concerned expression on his face. Tommy had locked himself in his hotel room right after they'd arrived, and none of them had seen him again until this morning.  
  
"Nothing. Played games, watched TV."  
  
"If you can't sleep, you should come talk to me," Adam said softly, frowning when Tommy just rolled his eyes. "I'm serious, you look like shit."  
  
As they climbed into the bus, Tommy bit his lip and glared at the pavement, determined not to respond. Sure, Adam cared that Tommy couldn't sleep. Why? Because he looked like shit in the morning when he couldn't…  
  
"We're gonna get something to eat. Coming, Tommy?" Isaac looked at his friend, who was digging through his backpack.  
  
"Not hungry," Tommy mumbled, pulling out a bottle of Advil and taking two dry. "I'm going to bed."  
  
"You're not hungry." David said in amazement, looking Tommy up and down. "You dying or something?"  
  
"Fuck you, I'm just not hungry," Tommy zipped up his backpack and stormed off toward the back of the bus.  
  
"Tommy's not hungry. The world's ending," David cracked, making a face when Isaac didn't laugh. "What? It's funny!"  
  
Isaac shook his head slowly, watching the blond figure barrel down Sutan, totally without regard for anyone else. "Tommy's not acting like himself…"  
  
"Tommy never acts like himself," David laughed, giving Isaac a push towards the kitchenette. "Come on, let's go get food, worrying about Tommy will only make you as nuts as he is."  
  
"It's the stress of the tour," Cam offered, joining up with the guys. "Right?"  
  
"It's Tommy, that's all," David insisted. "He's just being pissy. He'll be fine."  
  
Isaac nodded, and followed everyone to the bus kitchenette. Yeah, Tommy was always fine…but for the life of him, he couldn't remember the last time Tommy had been anything more than that…weren't people supposed to be better than just fine?  
  
   
**************************************  
  
Tommy sat tapping a pencil on his knee, wishing the long meeting could just be over. Hours, and hours, and hours of going over one arena after another…he rolled his eyes as Adam found something else to object over, and began doing a piano accompaniment on the table.  
  
Isaac noticed Tommy's private concert, and elbowed him in the ribs, "Stop it."  
  
"This is nuts." Tommy whispered back, stopping the chords he was playing with his hand on the table, but continuing his drum solo on his knee. "Who the fuck cares what kind of soda they put in the dressing room?"  
  
"Shhhh." Isaac glared at him, and returned his eyes to the contract about the second leg of the tour in front of him. Unlike Tommy, he was going to read it before signing it, these things were far too important not to.  
  
Tommy looked at the papers in front of him, sighing heavily. It wasn't that he didn't want to read it, or even that he didn't care about what was in it, he did. But he'd get two lines in and get impatient, his eyes jumping ahead to the next line before he'd finished reading the one he was on. He picked up the paper again, biting his lip as he concentrated on the first line. His brown eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the words, reading them letter by letter. Just go slow, read it carefully, he told himself, throwing the papers back on the table in frustration when he found himself staring at the bottom of the page. Dammit.  
  
"That's enough, Tommy," Adam said firmly to him, standing up. "We're done, OK?"  
  
"Good," Tommy grabbed the papers and shoved them into his bag, promising himself he would read them later. Calm himself down somehow, so he could read every word. "What now?"  
  
**************************************  
  
"Hey buddy," Tommy walked into David's room and sat down on the couch, looking at him questioningly. "Whatcha doing?"  
  
"I was gonna hit the hay, actually," David replied, waving to his clothes, or lack thereof. "What do you want?"  
  
Tommy frowned, and bit his lip. He wanted more of that pot, was what he wanted…. "I'm all wired again, can't seem to calm down."  
  
David's eyes narrowed and he looked at Tommy carefully. "Can't sleep?"  
  
Tommy snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Can't sit still long enough to get into bed, even."  
  
David got up and went into another room, returning with a small box he tossed at Tommy. "Knock yourself out. Next time you buy, OK?"  
  
Tommy opened the box and smiled when he saw the contents, the glass pipe and baggie of marijuana sitting underneath a bag of potpourri. "Dried flowers?"  
  
"So it doesn't stink too bad," David explained. "The good stuff, it smells, you know that."  
  
Tommy nodded solemnly and closed the box, standing up with a smile. "Thanks, man."  
  
"No problem, get some sleep," David waved.  
  
Tommy returned to his room and quickly packed the pipe, sighing in relief when he felt the first effects of the drug flow through his body. "Much better," he whispered to himself, sitting down and turning on the television. As he smoked, he impatiently flipped channels, smiling when he finally felt calm enough to settle in on one program.  
  
Soon enough, he found his gaze wandering, and his eyes fell on the bag in the corner holding the contract he'd struggled to read earlier. "I wonder…." He mused, pulling out the papers and looking them over. He started to read and shook his head, knowing he was still far too wound up for that. "But…" he grinned and picked up the box David had given him, pulling out the pipe again.  
  
"How much of this to calm me down enough so I can read, do you think?" He asked the pipe, chuckling to himself when it didn't answer. Sitting back on the bed, he smoked another bowl, laughing to himself over the insanity of what he was doing. Getting stoned, so he could read a contract…  
  
But it worked, he soon found out. He picked up the pages, and focused in on the first line. One word at a time, he followed the text, his brow wrinkling as he worked to translate the mess of legalese he was looking at. "Forthwith!" he said with a smirk, enjoying the way the word sounded on his tongue.  
  
"Forthwith!" Whatever the fuck it meant, anyway, he thought, returning his gaze to the papers in front of him.  
  
For the first time he could ever remember, Tommy read, and understood, every single word of a contract he'd signed.  
  
"God bless David," he whispered as he collapsed into bed, his mind a haze from the massive amount of THC running through his system. "And God bless marijuana…"  
  
********************************************  
  
"You smoked it all?" David was looking for said marijuana a week later, and was extremely dismayed to find the blond man had none left. "Aw man, you could have left me some."  
  
"It calmed me down," Tommy shrugged, and smiled. He'd had a really good two nights, while the supply had lasted, anyway. He'd watched two movies he'd been meaning to see, read a book he'd been dying to read, and, of course, read his contract cover to cover, which he was still very proud of himself for doing. "I'll buy you more, just tell me how."  
  
"Next week, when we're back in the US, I'll hook you up," David replied with a smirk.”I didn’t know you like this shit.”  
  
"Better than alcohol," Tommy said with a wave. He couldn't think straight when he was drunk, but with pot, it was the stark opposite. He also tended to be in an awful mood the morning after he had been drinking, whereas with the marijuana, he was in a happy daze until afternoon, when his usual funk would set in.  
  
"You don't smoke, Tommy, don't start." David warned, looking at him closely.  
  
Tommy laughed and shook his head rapidly. "Don't worry, man."  
  
"What are you doing tonight?" David asked. His had plans to go clubbing, although it would have been nice to have gotten stoned beforehand.  
  
Tommy shrugged. He was in a decent mood, for once, and didn't feel like doing much of anything. "Just going to hang out here, do nothing."  
  
"Alright, have fun," David waved as he left the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
Tommy plugged in his PS3 and settled in, grinning as he worked his way through his latest game. "Simple," he scoffed at the enemies charging at him, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw his timing was off. "Dammit," he restarted the game and ran through the fight sequence again, looking in amazement at the screen as he again lost. "I know I hit that combo right!" He growled at the television before trying again, pounding the controller in the carefully timed sequence he could see he was doing a few seconds too quickly. "What the fuck…" he threw the controller across the room in his frustration and kicked the PS3 onto the floor, only smiling when it hit the ground with a resounding clank.  
  
"Stupid PS3," he grumbled, picking up the remote control and flicking on the television. He frowned when he saw his hand shaking, and quickly dropped the remote, rubbing his palm. Dammit…he probably tried to do that too fast…  
  
Tommy got up and undressed for bed, rolling his eyes when he found himself wide awake once he'd turned off the lights. "Of course…I felt fine earlier...but now?" Now he wanted to go run a marathon….  
  
He closed his eyes and concentrated on sleepy thoughts, walking along the beach at sunset, curling up in a pile of blankets, happy, tired, sleepy thoughts….his eyes shot open when he felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him, and he stared at the ceiling. How could he feel dizzy when he was lying flat on his back? Because his mind was spinning so fast….he answered his own thought as he felt it, quickly followed by another one. Why couldn't he just stop thinking?  
  
He sat up and grabbed his head in frustration, squeezing his temple tight. He didn't want to think now, he wanted to go to sleep….he started laughing when a melody popped into his mind, a really cool one; he of course wanted to write down. He could sit for hours trying to think of a tune, but now? He could write a symphony…  
  
"Fine," Tommy gave up on sleep and got out of bed, turning on the lights again and grabbing a notebook. He picked up a pencil and began writing out the melody that had popped into his mind, quickly losing himself in the minutiae of whether or not to use an eighth note or a whole note to start the tune.  
  
******************************************************  
  
Tommy batted at the hands shaking him and rolled over, burying his head in his pillows. "I haven't heard my wakeup call yet," he mumbled to whoever was there, not caring who it was, what they wanted.  
  
"That's because you slept through it, genius," Isaac smacked at Tommy again, laughing at him. "Wake up, we gotta go."  
  
"Sleep. I want sleep." Tommy shot back, pulling the blanket over his head.  
  
"Tommy? We're going to do the X-Factor. This is cool, remember?"  
  
"I donwanna." He whined through the blanket, kicking at Isaac's shape on the bed next to him.  
  
"Jesus, Tommy, this isn't funny, just get out of bed, ok?" Isaac smacked at Tommy one last time before leaving him alone, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Tommy slowly emerged from the covers once Isaac had left, frowning at the tears he felt in his eyes. He just wanted to sleep in, for once…was that so wrong? They never got to sleep….he hadn't gotten to bed until nearly sunrise, he'd been working away on his new song and had just lost track of time.  
  
He got out of bed and stepped into the shower. Quickly washing his hair and face, he dressed and grabbed his bag, joining the others in the hallway. "Hi," he said softly, leaning up against the wall and ignoring everyone's curious looks.  
  
"Hi." Adam looked at him closely, his eyes narrowing when he saw Tommy's eyes. "Your eyes are red."  
  
"That's why they make eye drops." Tommy replied, turning away with a frown. "It's nothing."  
  
"Did you sleep?" Adam tried again.  
  
Isaac started laughing and nodded firmly. "Oh yeah, he slept, trust me, he got enough sleep."  
  
Tommy bit his lip and nodded his agreement, sighing with relief when the girls showed up and the attention was off of him. He'd barely gotten any sleep…but that was alright…if he'd learned anything, it was once he woke himself up, he'd be OK. He just had to wake himself up, that was all… "Coffee," he said to Adam, smiling when the man nodded in reply. "Just give me coffee, I'll be fine."  
  
"Coffee it is, then," Adam said, putting an arm comfortingly around Tommy and walking with him to the elevator. "Coffee cures all ails."  
  
"Yeah, coffee," Tommy rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of some of the fog he still felt in his head. He hadn't smoked anything, drank anything, nothing. And he still felt all fuzzy…. "Like a pot, maybe." Then, maybe, he'd feel awake.  
  
Maybe.  
  
He never seemed to know for sure anymore, did he?  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has many colorful names: Melancholia, Mania, Dual-Form Insanity, a Silent Killer. Tommy has "it". He just doesn't know it yet....

"Tommy, that was really stupid," Adam said firmly, looking at him angrily over the top of his coffee cup. "What the fuck were you thinking, plugging six laptops into one jack?"

Tommy just shrugged and took another gulp of coffee. He wasn't thinking….it was fun; that was all that mattered at the time.

"They're never going to let us stay here again," Adam continued, his frustration growing when Tommy didn't react at all to his words. "Goddammit Tommy, will you at least look at me?"

Tommy raised a pair of steely brown eyes to glare at Adam. "Yes, boss?"

"What the hell is with you? You said you weren't hyperactive, so you didn't take the prescription. Then what do you call what you did last night?"

"Boredom," Tommy shot back, returning his gaze to his lap.

"So you watch television, or play a game, Tommy, you don't try to blow out the whole damn hotel!"

Tommy rolled his eyes, ignoring Adam's tirade. Whatever….as long as he just waited it out, it would end…at least he hoped it did…

"What were you thinking?" Adam tried again. "Tommy?"

Tommy bit his lip and shook his head.

"Leave him alone, Adam," Sutan said softly, looking at Tommy with a concerned expression. Something was wrong… "I think he knows he did a stupid thing."

"Does he?"

"I'm sure he does." Sutan nodded.

"Then why is he suddenly incapable of telling me that himself?"

Tommy groaned and stood up, shaking his head. "Because he's sick to death of talking to you when you never listen anyway, Adam. It's a waste of fucking time."

"What?" Adam said in amazement, his eyes narrowing when Tommy just ran away from the table. "I listen to him…."

"I just suggest we lock up the laptops at night. Easier solution than reaming out Tommy, isn't it?" David said helpfully.

Adam smiled wryly and nodded. "Yeah, I guess." He'd always assumed himself as a friend of Tommy, rather than his boss. Why didn’t Tommy feel that way about him anymore?

****************************************

*******  
  
Tommy lay on his back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Once again, he couldn't sleep…surprise, surprise. He got out of bed with a groan and walked to the bathroom, cursing loudly when he stubbed his toe on a table. "Dammit," he hopped to the bathroom sink and sat down, rubbing his toe.  
  
He looked at his toe in amazement, watching as a bright red drop of blood formed on the tip. Pretty…the dark, wet color…so bright, so real…compared to everything else he saw around him. Which was fake…pain, that was real.  
  
Tommy put his foot back down on the ground and stood up, wincing slightly from the pain that shot through his leg. He'd knocked it hard…but that was ok. The pain…it meant he was alive, right? But why….why did he have to be alive?  
  
His eyes fell on his razor sitting on the edge of the sink, and he picked it up, sitting down again on the cold marble as he looked at it. "One cut, and it would all be over…" he said softly, looking at the sharp tip. If he could figure out how to cut right, anyway….  
  
What would happen if he killed himself, he wondered? His racing mind quickly ran with the idea, and he laughed as he saw images of fans crying, heartbroken, Adam hiring another bassist. "Yeah, right," he chuckled. He would be replaced easily, no question….  
  
After all, he was nothing more than a puppet, someone Adam put on the stage every night for his fans, for their entertainment. How hard could it be for him to find another cute twink? Another empty shell for him to kiss on the stage, to run through the routine, to play the same music over and over again, every fucking night…any robot could do it.  
  
He dropped the razor, feeling sickened by the sight of it shaking between his fingers. Walking back to the bed, he crawled under the covers, frowning when his foot began tapping out a rhythm on the bed.  
  
"Stay _still_!" he yelled at his foot, hitting the stupid limb. Why couldn't he just relax….maybe he was hyperactive.  
  
But wait…he'd decided he was a puppet, right? A puppet couldn't feel something like hyperactivity. He was just a defective puppet, at the moment.  
  
So maybe it was time to find a set of new strings.  
  
Or cut them entirely.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Tommy looked down at the girl he was dancing with and tried to remember her name. Mallory, Tori, Maria, something with an M… "Hey babe?" he bent down to shout in the girl's ear, smiling when she squirmed around to look up at him. "Wanna leave?"  
  
The girl, whose name was Mary, nodded at Tommy, her brown eyes wide. Of course she wanted to leave with Tommy …he was insanely charming, and had been a blast to hang out with all night. Who wouldn't want to leave with him??  
  
Tommy grabbed the girl's hand and smiled, kissing the skin of her palm. "After you," he gestured, waving her to the door.  
  
"Tommy, where are you going?" David grabbed his arm as he passed, looking at the girl on his arm carefully. "Well, hello…"  
  
"Mandy and I are going to get some fresh air," Tommy smiled. "Cool?"  
  
David grinned knowingly at Tommy. "Oh yeah, have fun Tommy." He was glad to see Tommy looking like he was having some fun. Tonight, today, had definitely been a good day for Tommy, no question. At the meet and greet earlier today he'd been answering all the questions the fans threw at him left and right ….and he'd outdone himself during the concert, teasing the fans mercilessly by rubbing himself all over Adam. And now he had this girl on his arm…who, judging from the expression on her face when Tommy said her name, was _not_ named Mandy.  
  
"We will!" Tommy called as he led Mandy out of the club, waving her into a cab. "Back to my hotel?"  
  
"Sure," Mary smiled at Tommy, feeling her stomach tremble when he bent his head close to hers.  
  
"You're beautiful, you know that?" He whispered, before kissing her softly, his lips just gently brushing over her skin. He heard her moan and smiled, running his hands over the sides of her neck. Oh yeah…she was putty in his hands.  
  
"Oh, god," was all Mary could say, when she felt his hand slip over her breast. Tommy Joe Ratliff thought she was beautiful? Oh wow…this wasn't really happening…how wonderful…  
  
"Come on," Tommy whispered when he felt the car stop, throwing some money at the driver before pulling her out. Without regard for the fans hanging around, he strolled through the lobby with her on his arm, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
When they arrived at his room, he waved her to the bedroom, smiling when she immediately removed her dress. "Not one for taking things slow, are you?" He grinned as he felt himself stiffen at the sight of her, and unbuckled his belt, looking at her seductively.  
  
"In the car…" she breathed, raising her arms to him, "Come here, Tommy…"  
  
Tommy took a step towards her, and then stopped when a wave of dizziness swept over him. "Fuck, one sec," he rolled his eyes in frustration and pressed against his temples, waiting for it to pass. When his feet felt steady under him, he opened his eyes. "Wha…" he took a step back, none of the attraction he'd previously felt for this girl existing anymore. What had previously been a little vixen he wanted to have some fun with, had suddenly just become another underage brunette in his hotel room, and one he wanted nothing to do with.  
  
"Tommyyy…" Mary cooed, batting her eyes at him. "Come here…"  
  
Tommy looked at her and sighed. Why on earth did he play romantic tonight? He never felt right throwing them out when he did that…it was mean…and he _did_ have a good time with her. He had, anyway. Right now…he wondered what the hell had just changed. "Yeah, baby…."  
  
"I want you, Tommy," Mary spread her legs and grinned at him, running her eyes along the length of his body. "Get undressed."  
  
Tommy pulled off his clothes and crawled onto the bed, bending his head and kissing her reflexively. He felt her arch up into him and pressed his body into hers, groaning softly.  
  
"Tommy…"  
  
"Shut up," Tommy said brusquely, pushing her knees apart and shoving himself inside of her before she could react. Get this over with, then, if he had to do it. His eyes rolled back in his head from the intense, sudden pleasure, and he gasped, his head falling down to rest in the crook of her neck.  
  
"Oh yeah, god, Tommy!" Mary cried, her legs quickly going around his back to pull him close.  
Tommy withdrew and pushed back in again, looking into Mary's eyes. God...this just seemed so wrong… "Fuck," he cursed, his movements stopping suddenly.  
  
"What?" Mary said, looking at him, her eyes wide. "Baby, you felt so good…"  
  
Tommy's face fell, and he rolled over, shaking his head slowly. "Get out."  
  
Mary's eyebrow wrinkled and she scrambled over to him, looking at him closely. "Tommy? Why'd you pull…" her eyes trailed downward, and she stopped speaking when she saw the limp mass lying between his legs. "Oh…um…"  
  
"Just go." Tommy's voice was barely a whisper, and he was fighting back tears. What the _hell_ was wrong with him…?  
  
"Would it help if I lay on my tummy? Is that what you want?" She offered helpfully, her face contorting in confusing when Tommy glared at her angrily. "No?"  
  
"I'm not fucking gay!" Tommy shouted, slapping her face for the awful suggestion. "Oh, shit, Fuck," his eyes widened in horror when he realized what he'd done. "I'm so sorry…."  
  
Mary jumped up and grabbed her clothes, pulling them on as she rubbed her bruised cheek. "Sorry? What the hell? You _hit_ me, Tommy!"  
  
"I'm so sorry," he repeated, getting up to try to comfort her.  
  
Mary backed away, tripping over his pants on the floor and bumping into the wall. "Fuck, stay away from me!" She was trembling as she collected her purse off the floor and pulled open the door. "I wish I'd never even heard of Adam Lambert…or you!" She cried as she left, slamming the door behind her.  
  
Tommy fell to his knees on the floor when the door slammed, sobbing uncontrollably into his hands. He'd been feeling so good, so happy, right up until the moment he'd gotten her back to his room. And then…bang…it had all felt wrong.  
  
What he didn't know…and what he wasn't so sure if he even wanted to know, anymore, was just what that bang was.  
  
Because at this point, he was pretty sure it was something. Figuring out what the something was, that was the hard part.  
  
The question was…was the answer worth looking for?  
  
*************************************  
  
Three hours later, Tommy was thinking no answer was worth looking for. He had ordered up a porno on the television, yeah, stupid idea, but he had to prove something to himself.  
The experiment had been a failure, as little Tommy had failed to respond to the leggy blondes gyrating away on the television screen. He finally turned it off, cursing over the stupidity of porn plots.  
  
A little while after that, he'd cracked into the mini bar, but two shots of Jack Daniel's had only made his stomach hurt, and silenced the ringing in his head…a little. He threw back another shot, and winced as it burned down his throat.  
  
He got up and walked to the bathroom, shaking his head from the fog and spinning he was feeling. He relieved himself and washed his hands, his eyes once again falling on the razor lying by the sink. Picking it up and popping out the blade, he returned to the bedroom, sitting back down on the bed with the razor blade in his hand.  
  
"Whiskey in one hand, razor in another," he cracked, holding up the bottle of JD. "Oh wait, this is bourbon. Whiskey is good, right?" He asked the razor blade, frowning when it didn't answer. At least Dave’s dog would make some sort of reaction when Tommy talked to him… "Who cares," he shrugged, and took another gulp, groaning over the pain it caused in his stomach. He wasn't feeling very drunk either, and you'd think he would, at this point, with how little he normally drank. No tolerance, right?  
  
Putting the bottle down on the nightstand, he ran his fingertip over the razorblade, his eyes widening in fascination when he saw it break the skin. A drop of bright, red, blood oozed out, and he smiled, squeezing his finger as some more appeared. "The stuff of life…" he whispered, lifting his finger to his tongue and licking off the metallic flavor of the drop.  
  
Tommy made a face and grabbed the bottle of JD again, taking two quick chugs to cover the taste of the blood. "Ick," he frowned, his vision beginning to blur uncomfortably.  
  
"Now…" he took the razorblade and ran it lightly over his wrist, watching as it traced a line. How hard would he have to push to break the skin, he wondered. Just a little… "oh," he said in a disjointed wonder as blood began to seep from the crack he'd made on his wrist, slowly, steadily dripping down his arm. But it didn't hurt…this wasn't fair…it didn't work without the pain…  
  
He started to cry, and grabbed the bottle again, throwing it across the room in frustration when he found it empty. He'd gone through an entire fifth, what the fuck… he looked back down at his bloody arm, and shook his head, curling up in the blankets.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with me," he whispered pitifully, reaching over and turning off the light. "Fuck! What is wrong with me…."  
  
***************************************  
  
"Tommy, wake up." Isaac shook his friend, frowning when he didn't react. He'd noticed the smashed liquor bottle against the wall, and once again, Tommy had slept through his wakeup call. "Tommy!!"  
"  
Go away," Tommy reached out and smacked Isaac, rolling over in the bed.  
  
"What the," Isaac's eyes bulged out of his head in horror when he saw the streaks of red on Tommy's arm, and he grabbed it. "Tommy?"  
  
"Ow!" Tommy shot out of bed, yanking his arm away from Isaac and rubbing it. "What the hell, that hurt."  
  
"What happened to your arm, Tommy?" Isaac said, his voice full of concern.  
  
"Nothing," Tommy shook his head and wiped at the dried blood on his arm. Shit, he should have washed it off before going to sleep. "Nothing."  
  
"You were bleeding all over the place!" Isaac pulled back the blanket from the bed, his face falling when he saw the razor blade still tucked underneath the covers. "Oh god, Tommy, why didn't you talk to me?"  
  
"There's nothing to talk about!" Tommy shouted, backing away from Isaac, who had picked up the razor blade and was holding it to him. "Don't show me that!"  
  
"What is this, Tommy?"  
  
"What do you think it is?" he spat back.  
  
"Why were you sleeping with it?" Isaac asked.  
  
Tommy shrunk under the question, shaking his head slowly. "No…." Tears filled his eyes and his shoulders sagged as he began to cry. "No…."  
  
Isaac sighed and put the razorblade down, walking to Tommy and hugged him tightly, wrapping his arms around him. "Tommy, we're going to get you some help, ok?" He rubbed his best friend's back, wishing for the world he could figure out whatever was bothering him. "Whatever's wrong, we'll fix it."  
  
"Ok," Tommy let his friend console him, desperately needing to trust someone, it had become too much for him to handle on his own. He sobbed into Isaac's shoulder, hoping he was right. "Please, Isaac, help me…"  
  
********************************************  
  
"Your friend found you sleeping with a razorblade." The doctor said to Tommy, looking at him carefully.  
  
Tommy sighed and nodded. "Yes."  
  
Another therapy session with a new doctor.  
  
"Why were you sleeping with a razorblade?"  
  
"I'd been playing with it and I'd fallen asleep," he shrugged. He wasn't quite sure why he had been cutting himself anymore. He definitely didn't feel now like he'd felt then, and the little problem he'd had with that girl had quickly rectified itself the next night on stage.  
  
“So you were laying there playing with a razorblade. With the marks on your arm it looks like you were cutting yourself,” The doctor, whose name was Dr. Lipton, looked at Tommy expectantly. These rich rock stars, always thought their world was ending because they couldn't sleep…. “When you were playing with the razorblade, what was going through your head? Where you thinking about harming yourself? Or…killing yourself?”  
  
"I don't know," Tommy mumbled, looking at the floor.  
  
"You don't know."  
  
"I think I just wanted to see what I could do," he shrugged.  
  
“Have you ever thought about it before…or done anything to deliberately hurt yourself?” When Tommy shrugged again, he decided to approach the issue from another angel, "Now, you said that you saw a doctor a month ago?" Dr. Lipton adjusted his glasses and sighed. "Tommy?"  
  
"Yeah," Tommy nodded slowly. "He said I'm hyperactive."  
  
"What exactly did he tell you?"  
  
"He said I had hyperactivity disorder," Tommy spoke the words clearly, carefully annunciating each syllable. "Gave me a prescription for Ritalin."  
  
"Did you take it?"  
  
"Do I look hyperactive to you?" Tommy snorted and shook his head. "I tore it up, of course not."  
  
"When you can't sleep…tell me about that?"  
  
Tommy shrugged. "I get into bed, but it's like my mind won't shut off. I just have so much stuff to do, to think about, worry about…"  
  
"Would you consider yourself stressed? Overworked?"  
  
Tommy laughed. "I'm on tour. Do you _know_ what I had to do to get an hour free to be here?"  
  
“You seem irritated with me from this question. From that I can guess that you are very stressed from the tour and expect to have some sleep problems related to the workload. Want to tell me more about that?”  
  
Tommy rolled his eyes. It was a rhetorical question… "Reshuffle shit. That's all."  
  
The doctor nodded firmly and reached for a prescription pad, scribbling something on the top sheet and handing it to Tommy. "There ya go."  
  
Tommy looked at the piece of paper dimly. He'd come here for help…and he was getting…a piece of paper. "What's this?"  
  
"A prescription for Prozac," Dr. Lipton smiled. "Listen Tommy, from what you have told me so far, I think you have major depression. Prozac is an antidepressant. It will calm you down and help you sleep. It will help, I promise you. You just have to be patient and keep taking it until it kicks into your system.”  
  
“For how long?”  
  
“It might be a couple of days to a month. More likely a couple of weeks. Now, do you have someone you can call in case you have suicidal thoughts? Friends? Family? Any sort of support group?”  
  
Tommy shrugged, “A couple of friends, yeah.”  
  
“Good. Now, call me in a week, and we'll see how you're doing, OK?"  
  
Tommy sighed and clutched the piece of paper tightly between his hands. If it would keep him from seeing that expression on Isaac's face again, fine, he'd try the Prozac. "Thanks," he stood up and left, wondering how he would fill the prescription without anyone knowing it was him.  
Tommy Joe Ratliff, Adam Lambert’s bassist is on Prozac…oh, can't you see the headlines now, he groaned, stuffing the paper in his pocket. Well, if it helped…it would be worth it. Right?  
  
**************************************  
  
"Bottoms up," Tommy fished the pill out of the bottle and swallowed it, grinning at Isaac. "Done."  
  
"How was the doc?" Isaac asked, watching as Tommy stashed the bottle of Prozac in the bottom of his drawer.  
  
Tommy shrugged, rolled his eyes. "I'm depressed, I got pills, I'll get better, isn't that how it works?"  
  
Isaac sighed, "Tommy, I found you with a razor blade…is a pill really going to fix that?"  
  
"The doctor said it would," Tommy said, laughing when Isaac looked at him in horror. "I'm kidding, relax. Come on, we were gonna play?"  
  
"Yeah," Isaac passed Tommy a PS3 controller and smiled. "Let's play."  
  
A few hours later, Tommy was bouncing off of the walls. He was getting frustrated with the game, with Isaac, with himself, he wanted to go out, do something. "New game?"  
  
"Nah, I'm tired," Isaac looked at the time, and then firmly fixed his gaze on Tommy. "As you should be…"  
  
Tommy got up and nodded, "Yeah, right." Maybe with the pill, now, he could sleep, he thought, as he waved goodnight to his friend and returned to his own room.  
  
"Not a chance in hell," Tommy told himself a short while later, cursing the wired feeling running through him. At times, it was good to feel like this, he thought, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. Like when he was on stage, all of this energy soaring through his veins was the greatest thing in the world. But right now…god…all he wanted to do was sleep….  
  
His head shot up as he thought he heard a sound at the door, and he carefully crept to the door before opening it and peeking his head outside. Nothing, he frowned, closing the door and stepping away before he heard the sound again. "What?" He pulled open the door again, seeing nothing.  
  
"Ok…." He closed the door and returned to bed, screaming in frustration when he again heard a scratching sound. " _Goddammit_!" He went to his bag and dug out the bottle of Prozac, storming into the bathroom and flushing them down the sink. "What good are you if I'm hearing shit, huh?" he asked the capsules as they disappeared down the drain.  
  
He'd just have to find something else to help him, that was all.  
  
And luckily for him, he knew just where to find it.  
  
Tommy checked the clock, shrugged, and picked up his cellphone. "Hey…David?"  
  
***************************************  
  
Tommy stood on stage, waving at the crowd, smiling from ear to ear. This was his best two hours of the day, without a doubt, from the moment he stepped on stage until he danced off, he felt wonderful. On top of the world, like not a thing could hurt him. He winked at a girl screaming his name and laughed when she almost fainted, wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead. This was the way people were supposed to feel, right? Happy, good, normal…. But why did it seem to take an arena full of 20,000 screaming fans to make him feel normal?  
  
He ran offstage as the show ended, grabbing his bag and joining the others in the van back to the hotel. He scrunched down in his seat and closed his eyes, sighing as he felt his mind start to slow down from the racing high it had been on during the show. It was like he crashed from the adrenaline rush. But when he crashed…he crashed…only to end up on another high at 4am. It made no sense, right?  
  
"How are you feeling, Tommy?" Adam turned around from the seat in front to look at his friend carefully. Tommy had been looking much better since he'd seen the doctor a week ago, presumably because of some prescription he'd received, but he had given Isaac quite a scare, and one nobody was going to recover from for some time.  
  
"Fine," Tommy shrugged, and looked out the window.  
  
"Taking that Prozac?" Isaac asked softly, his eyes narrowing when Tommy groaned. "What?"  
  
"Yes, I'm taking the Prozac," Tommy lied, his heart sinking when he heard the words leave his own mouth. Who would have known it would be so easy to lie to his best friend…but how could he tell him the truth? Sure Isaac, I did, but I was hearing things, so I flushed them down the toilet. No, he'd be just fine…  
  
"And it's helping?" Adam asked again, tilting his head to get a close look at Tommy's eyes. He looked ok…  
  
"Yes," Tommy replied quickly. "Now can we please talk about something else? How about you, Adam, taking any pills?"  
  
"Very funny…"  
  
"It wasn't a joke," Tommy grumbled, shaking his head. Whether or not he was taking pills should be his business, and his business alone. It was Isaac's own fault he had to lie to him…he shouldn't have asked.  
  
Or so he told himself. Anyway, it was just one little lie, what could it hurt, right?  
  
Just one little lie.  
  
*********************************************  
  
  
Tommy discovered quickly that one little lie easily escalated into a lot of little lies, as he continued to tell the whole group that he was still taking his medication. He even called the doctor for his checkup, and promised to keep taking the prescription, something he had no intention of doing.  
  
"At least I'm not sleeping through wakeup calls anymore," he snickered, flicking channels on the television. He'd figured out how to put an end to that, once and for all. If he had to be awake before 8, and he wasn't in bed by 4, he wouldn't sleep. Period.  
  
Then he wouldn't have a wakeup call to sleep through…and it wasn't like staying up all night was difficult. Eerily easy, in fact, he mused, settling in on MTV, the television merely providing background noise for his thoughts. And the tour would be over soon, he'd be back home, just passing time until the next recording session, or interview, or whatever they had to do next.  
It wasn't like it mattered if he was a wreck in between things, right? As long as he looked and played his guitar alright whenever they had to do whatever they had to do, that was all that mattered.  
  
His friends were a little confused, that was the only problem. One day he was sleeping through his wakeup calls, the next he couldn't sit still at breakfast. He was pretty sure they believed that Prozac was the cause of the change, however, as long as they believed he was taking it…  
And thank god, Mary had never told a soul about what had happened. Tommy wasn't even sure what had happened anymore, he had written it off to one of those freak things that just…happen, sometimes. Every woman loves to tell men it happens to everyone, right? It just hadn't ever happened to him…  
  
As for hitting her…he shivered as he remembered the white rage that had seethed through him at her innocent suggestion. He didn’t know where that anger had come from, although he was pretty sure she could have asked for the time of day and his reaction would have been the same. He had never, ever, hit a woman before in his life, and never thought he ever would…part of him wanted to find her, apologize. But what would he say? He had no explanation…he'd just done it.  
"Yet something else Tommy fucks up," he grumbled, rolling his eyes at the stupid video on the television. But at least he was learning how to cover, and plan for his fuck ups, right?  
  
Like wakeup calls. If they weren't necessary, he couldn't sleep through them, and nobody would know to worry.  
  
As long as they thought he was alright, he'd be just fine.  
  
Just fine.  
  
******************************************  
  
Tommy was sitting on his couch, flicking channels on the television, wondering why in the world he had been so looking forward to the tour end. How much better was this than touring, anyway?  
  
The same frustrations and annoyances that had haunted him on the entire tour had followed him home, with one difference. He had no reason to fight the frustrations, no schedule to keep him grounded…so he didn't. He figured he had probably spent nearly a month on his rear at this point, watching television, playing games, doing much of nothing. He didn't feel like doing much of anything, at least not until sometime around 2am. He'd done some strange stuff over the last month at that hour…it's weird, the places your mind goes when the rest of the world sleeps.  
  
But as long as he didn't think about it, he was ok…  
  
Two more weeks, he mused. He would have to return some phone calls tomorrow, post on his Twitter account, let his friends and the fans know he was still alive. He kept meaning to call his family, but just hadn't felt like it. I'll do it tomorrow…he said every day. And every tomorrow, he said it again…  
  
Tommy's eyes widened in horror when he heard a pounding on his front door. He looked around the room in disgust. He couldn't let anyone in here…there was junk everywhere, empty food containers, soda bottles, rotten food he had meant to clean up, god, was that two weeks ago now? …. " _What?_ " He hollered, frowning when the pounding only continued.  
  
"Dammit," Tommy grumbled and walked to the front door, opening it slowly and peeking his head out.  
  
"Tommy?" Isaac said cautiously, his face falling when he saw the state his best friend was in. His clothes were filthy, his hair was bedraggled, his eyes were bloodshot, skin splotchy, and god, he stunk… "Jesus, Tommy, why haven't you been answering your phone? What's going on with you?"  
  
"Nothing," Tommy shrugged. "Two weeks, right?"  
  
"That’s when the gig is, yeah," Isaac's eyebrows knotted with concern as he looked closely at his friend. "Tommy, can I come in?"  
  
"No."  
  
Isaac frowned, "Why not?"  
  
"No reason to," he shrugged. "I'll see you in two weeks…" he tried to close the door in his friend's face, but Isaac was too fast and ducked inside, “Fuck…”  
  
"Holy shit," Isaac was unable to keep silent when he saw the state Tommy's house was in, not a single surface was clear. Everything was covered with something, filth and grime as far as the eye could see. "Tommy…your new house…" he said softly, his eyes scanning the room.  
  
"I'll clean it," Tommy rolled his eyes. "No big deal."  
  
Isaac's eyes fell on a pile of rotten food on the counter and he nearly gagged in reaction.  
  
"Enough's enough," he said harshly, and grabbed Tommy's hand, dragging him out of the house.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" Tommy tried to fight Isaac, but he'd been sitting still for far too long, and was easily overpowered.  
  
"Get in the car," Isaac shoved Tommy at his car, and watched until the blond man got inside before turning around and locking the door to Tommy's house. "You're staying with me for a while."  
  
"I want to stay home," Tommy said helplessly as Isaac started the car and pulled away. "Isaac, what are you doing?"  
  
"I'm going to get you the help you need, Tommy, one way or another," Isaac said firmly. "Whatever we've been doing so far, it clearly hasn't been working."  
  
"I'm fine…"  
  
"Your house didn't look fine," Isaac whispered, unable to get the image of Tommy's disastrous house out of his mind. How on earth had it gotten so bad?  
  
"I'll be fine…" Tommy tried once more to argue, but Isaac was no longer answering him. He tried not to tremble as the car took him further and further away from his own house, and closer and closer to the unknown. Where was Isaac taking him…? "I'll be fine."  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has many colorful names: Melancholia, Mania, Dual-Form Insanity, a Silent Killer. Tommy has "it". He just doesn't know it yet....

"Hi, Tommy." The doctor crossed his legs and smiled kindly at the blond man hunched on the couch across from him. "You look a little uncomfortable."

Tommy shrugged, and rolled his eyes. He knew how this went, by now…he'd tell the doctor his house was a dump, get some diagnosis, a prescription, and go home. It was pointless…

"So…why don't you tell me why you're here?"

"My house was a mess." Tommy shrugged.

"I'm sure you're not here because you didn't feel like cleaning, Tommy," the doctor smiled wryly. "Are you comfortable talking to me?"

Tommy looked at the doctor dully. "As comfortable as I'd be talking to anyone…"

"You wouldn't be more comfortable with a female psychiatrist?" The doctor offered helpfully. "Maybe an older one?" This doctor, named Dr. Levine, although Tommy had long stopped listening when doctors introduced themselves to him, was in his mid 40's, young, compared to the other two he had seen.

Tommy shrugged, and then thought about the question, looking at the doctor carefully. No, this guy looked alright, he supposed…he wondered absentmindedly if the man was gay, the way he was twirling his pencil between his fingers… "Definitely not a girl”.

Dr. Levine smiled and nodded, "I just figured I would check."

"I guess you're OK…"

"You don't have to decide that quite yet, Tommy," Dr. Levine waved his pencil in the air with a small grin. "The way I would like to go from here, would be to do an initial diagnosis with you. I'd need to meet with you at least two more times, as well as with your family…"

Tommy groaned and rolled his eyes. "Do you have to?"

"Unfortunately, yes," The doctor smiled understandingly. "I'm going to need to know some things about your behavior as a child, which I'll need to hear from your family."

Tommy sighed and nodded his grudging acceptance. "I guess."

"Is there anyone else who you think would be a good judge of your behavior? Any friends?" The doctor checked the pad of paper in front of him.

Tommy bit his lip, wondering if he should say. "Adam,” he said with a frown. He didn't want to drag Adam into this.

The doctor wrote down the name, and looked up at Tommy. "Anyone else?"

He shook his head. "Not that I can think of. Why do you need to know that stuff? All I did was forget to clean…"

"I said before that I was pretty sure you weren't here just because you weren't cleaning, Tommy," Dr. Levine smiled warmly. "You didn't seem quite willing to answer that before. I'll give you an even easier question now. How do you feel?"

"How do I feel?"

"Right now, right here. How are you feeling?"

Tommy shrugged. "Fine."

The doctor chuckled softly and shook his head. "That's not an answer. How are you feeling, Tommy? Happy? Sad? Tired?"

Tommy stopped to think about how he was feeling. "Tired. But OK…clear."

Dr. Levine made a note on the pad in front of him and looked at Tommy. "You don't always feel clear?"

"Nope," Tommy sighed. "I get foggy…I can't explain it."

"Ok….Do you have any thoughts about hurting yourself?"

“No…not really.”

“And when you have these thoughts…does that usually happen when you get foggy?”

“Mostly…yeah.”

“OK…”

"What are you writing?" Tommy leaned forward to look at the pad, his eyes narrowing in annoyance when the doctor pulled it out of his view.

"Just some notes," he said absentmindedly as he continued writing, only looking up when he was finished. "I apologize. Once I have made a diagnosis, I will show you every word I have written about you, and explain it all. But until then, I must ask that you let me keep my notes private, until then, reading what I write would only raise questions I cannot answer."

"You'll let me see then?" Tommy said cautiously, looking at the pad clutched tightly in the doctor's hands.

"Scout's honor." The doctor smiled, and sat back. “Now tell me…what is a typical day like for you, Tommy?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow and snorted, "When? It's totally different, depending on where I am…"

"How about for the month you were back home from the tour." Dr. Levine prompts him gently. "You wake up, around what time, how do you feel when you wake up?"

"I don't want to think about that month," Tommy bit his lip and stared at the floor. It was all anyone wanted to talk to him about, Adam, his friends, his mother… they all wanted to know why. He didn't know why…he couldn't believe he'd done it either. "I can't remember…"

"Just take it one step at a time. Where do you sleep?"

"In my bed, mostly."

"Ok. When do you wake up?"

Tommy made a face. "Afternoon sometime, if I slept at all…"

"You weren't always sleeping?" Dr. Levine scribbled on the pad in front of him before looking up at Tommy.

He shook his head, "It was just too hard to get to sleep…there was no reason to, it wasn't like I needed to be awake the next day. So I just wouldn't."

The doctor nodded solemnly. "That's a very common reaction. So you wake up in the afternoon. How do you feel when you wake up?"

Tommy frowned, and stared up at the ceiling while he thought. "Like I'm still asleep. Foggy, tired, I never want to get out of bed."

"What would you do then?"

He smiled wryly, "Get out of bed."

The doctor pulled off his glasses and smiled at Tommy. "If I didn't feel like I ever wanted to get out of bed, I probably wouldn't get out of bed."

"Yeah, but I can't spend all day in bed, that'd be nuts…" Tommy laughed when he realized what he'd said. "I guess not wanting to get out of bed is nuts in itself, huh?"

"Nuts isn't a clinical term," the doctor smiles. "Human, that's all."

"I'd always make myself get out of bed at some point," Tommy explained, shrugging his shoulders. "I would want to sleep all day, but I don't think I really could, I'd always get to a point where I'd just be tossing and turning in the sunshine wishing I could get back to sleep."

“If you could sleep all day you would but you still find it in you to get up and get moving. Take me through what happens next.”

"You'd get out of bed, and then do what?"

Tommy frowned, shrugged again. "Watch television, play a game…do nothing."

Dr. Levine nodded and made another note on his pad. "Until what time?"

"Until bed…"

"What about food?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "I eat I get really hungry at times, later…get these silly ideas of fun things to do, do them…."

"Like?"

"Drive to LA for a Taco," Tommy couldn't help but laugh. "An almost two hour round trip drive at 3a.m. because I really wanted a Taco."

Dr. Levine smiled. "Any other silly fun things you did?"

"Oh, a ton," Tommy sat back in the chair, and looked at the doctor. "You're not so bad to talk to."

Dr. Levine chuckled softly, "I should hope not."

"I mean…you get that it's just silly, not crazy, you know? Wanting a Taco at 3a.m. Isaac would be on the floor right now, looking at me like I'm losing my mind."

"Is that why you stopped talking to your friends?"

Tommy nods slowly, "What was I going to tell them? They'd ask how I was doing…I hate lying…"

"Tommy, did you use any drugs during this time?" Dr. Levine asked the question slowly, watching Tommy's reaction.

He shook his head, "No, only on tour."

"On tour?"

Tommy's eyes filled with tears as he remembered how weak he'd been, "I was using pot, to get to sleep at night on tour. Before I stopped sleeping, anyway…"

Dr. Levine smiled and nodded, scratching away with his pencil. "What did the pot do, to help you sleep?"

"Slowed things down."

The doctor's eyes widen briefly behind his glasses, and he gestures to Tommy. "Can you elaborate?"

Tommy frowned as he tried to find the words. "I'd be bouncing off the walls, hyperactive, ya know? All these thoughts would be racing through my mind."

"And you didn't feel this once you were at home?"

"No, I did, but it didn't matter so much," Tommy shrugged. "I didn't have to be functioning for work in the morning, so as I said, I just wouldn't sleep."

"You didn't feel an urge to use marijuana?"

Tommy smirked. "Sure I did."

“Using helped calm you down when you were on tour. You still felt the urge to use at home but something was different. What do you think it was?”

"I'm not a druggie." Tommy said firmly. "I was starting to act like one."

Dr. Levine's eyes narrowed slightly, and he looked at Tommy steadily, "How does a druggie act?"

"I couldn't sleep without the pot."

"You're not sleeping now, you said?"

"I'm not smoking pot."

"So…"

Tommy's eyes filled with tears, and he stared at the doctor. "Does that make me a drug addict?"

“It sounds to me that you are worried about being a drug addict and what that would mean about you. Tell me about what it would mean if you were a drug addict.”

“That I’m worthless, that I can’t handle myself.”

“Thank you for opening up and being honest with me. It is hard to be vulnerable and look deep inside our worries and frustrations. These are all things that we can address in our sessions together.” 

He nodded firmly. "Yeah, OK…"

"Did you drink at all during that month?"

"Booze?"

Dr. Levine nodded with a smile.

"Not really," Tommy frowned. "I used to drink before…a lot actually, but lately it seems like I can’t get drunk…I just get sick."

“What did you usually drink?”

“Whiskey mostly…sometimes beer.”

“And how much would you take before getting drunk?”

Tommy shrugged, “There have been times when I have had over 20 longnecks and just got slightly buzzed…”

Dr. Levine made a final note on his pad and stood up. "Great, Tommy, I think we're making some really good progress here. You know I'm going to need to speak with your mother as well, right? I need to get outside information but since you are an adult, due to your privacy rights, I am going to need your permission to do that."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Yeah I know. I think Adam called her at some point."

"Adam was concerned about you."

"I don't want his pity!" Tommy shouted, then stood up, shook by his own anger. "Sorry, I don't know where that came from…"

Dr. Levine smiled lightly, and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you in two days. We'll start to discuss treatment then, ok?"

Tommy sighed. So still no magic prescription to solve all his problems, huh. "Ok, I guess…"

"Talk to your family, and Adam, about when would be convenient for them to come in, OK?" The doctor stood up and offered Tommy his hand. "I'll see you in two days."

Tommy stood up and looked at the doctor questioningly. Where was the piece of paper? "No prescription?"

Dr. Levine chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy, until I figure out what, if anything, is going on with you, I have no way of knowing if medication is even the proper treatment for whatever you may or may not have. Within a week or so, I promise you, we'll know."

Tommy smiled for the first time in days as he left the office, feeling more relief from that promise than he'd ever felt from a prescription in his hand. He hadn't been offered a cure, or even help. But he'd been promised…promised…the answer.

And that was worth its weight in gold.

****************************************

************  
  
"So you liked the doctor?" Adam asked Tommy, looking at him with concern. They had spent the day together, at Adam’s place.  
  
Tommy groaned and rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand the way everyone was treating him, as if he was some fragile thing that was going to break. "He's OK, I guess."  
  
"You can talk to him?"  
  
"Yes, Adam," He sighed heavily. "He wants me to bring you in."  
  
"Me?" Adam's brow furrowed, and he looked at Tommy closely. "Why me?"  
  
"He said he needs to talk to someone who knows me pretty well."  
  
"Oh." Adam smiled. Tommy still trusted him. "OK."  
  
"Yeah…"  
  
"Tommy?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You know we're just worried, we just care about you….That's why Isaac did what he did, dragging you out of there."  
  
Tommy nodded. He hadn't been able to look Isaac in the eyes since that day…he knew, logically, if their roles were reversed he would have done the exact same thing. It was humiliating…realizing he'd let his house get that bad. As Isaac had said…his new house… "I know."  
  
"Something's been going on with you, hasn't it?"  
  
Tommy bit his lip as his eyes filled with tears, and he forced himself to shrug. "Dunno."  
  
"Tommy…"  
  
Tommy stood up and shook his head. It was bad enough they wouldn't just let him be, if he had to stay here at Isaac's, it wasn't fair if he also had to put up with everyone trying to psychoanalyze him every minute…wasn't that what the shrink was for. "Leave me alone…"  
  
"Tommy…" Adam called helplessly as Tommy fled out of the door of the apartment, and he looked up in frustration when Monte drove in a minute later. "He ran."  
  
"He's been doing that a lot lately," Monte sighed heavily. "He won't talk to me either."  
  
"Has he talked to anyone?"  
  
Monte shook his head, "David came by last night, Tommy wouldn't even look at him."  
  
"Did he tell you what the doctor said?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Adam frowned, and bit his lip. He reached over and picked up the phone, feeling like a total and complete failure. He'd tried to help, he really had…but it just didn't seem to be working. He dialed, and held the receiver to his ear. "Hey Mrs. Ratliff.”  
  
******************************************************  
  
Tommy pulled into Isaac's driveway and sat in his car for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He hated having to stay at his best friend's house, but Isaac refused to let him leave until the doctor had at least a diagnosis for him, which wouldn't be coming for two more days. He wasn't a child anymore, dammit, and they were all treating him like one… "Fuck," he cursed softly, as he saw Isaac stick his head out of the front door to stare. "Hey, man," he got out of the car and waved at his friend.  
  
"Hey buddy," Isaac smiled and held the door open for Tommy. "How'd the doc go?"  
  
"Lovely," Tommy replied as he walked past his friend. What else was he going to say?"Mom called. She’s meeting my doctor tonight."  
  
"You're not going to be there?"  
  
Tommy shook his head slowly, "I wasn't asked to be…"  
  
"Oh." Isaac followed Tommy into the house, sitting down next to him on the couch. "So, what'd the doctor say?"  
  
Tommy turned to look at Isaac, his brown eyes cold. "Isn't that my business? Doctor patient confidentiality and all that shit?"  
  
"I'm just worried about you, Tommy…"  
  
"Save your worry for someone who cares, OK?" Tommy stood up and shook his head angrily. "Every single time you look at me I feel like you're going to start crying, or try to save me, or something. I'm not dying, Isaac, I'm perfectly fine, will you just relax?"  
  
Isaac stared at Tommy, his expression hurt. "How is this fine, Tommy? Do you hear yourself?"  
  
"You are driving me nuts, Isaac, that has nothing to do with me," Tommy shot back, before turning around and storming back out the front door. "Fuck this, I'm going home…"  
  
"You can't, Tommy!" Isaac ran after him, grabbing his arm. “Your place is a mess."  
  
"I'll get a maid, shit," Tommy shoved Isaac, not noticing when his friend fell to the floor from the push. "Bye."  
  
Isaac watched from the floor as the door slammed behind Tommy, and he heard the car start a moment later. "Shit," he frowned, and stood up, picking up the telephone. He stared at the phone for a moment, unsure of who to call. Finally, he sighed, and dialed. "Hey, Adam?"  
  
**********************************************  
  
"Woah," Tommy let himself inside his house, amazed by the mess it was in. "How the hell did it get this bad," he looked around in surprise, unable to believe what he'd done. He cursed when he saw the dog shit on the floor, and rolled his eyes in disgust. "That's nasty…." He kept walking through the house, examining every room, surprising himself with the extent of the chaos he'd created.  
  
"Even for you, Tommy, this is pretty amazing," he talked to himself as he walked, commenting over every little thing he saw. "This is one big house of trash you've made for yourself here." He ended up in the kitchen, staring at the refrigerator.  
  
"Is it worth it…?” He opened the refrigerator and stared at the bottle of whiskey inside. Would he get drunk, or would he get sick? "Being drunk would be nice…." He could forget about the mess he had to clean up, and just wallow in some alcohol for the night. Forget everything. One night off, what was so wrong about that, right? "What the fuck." He pulled out the bottle and returned to the living room, taking a swallow straight from the bottle as he walked.  
  
An hour later, Tommy was indeed very drunk, and when he first heard the doorbell ring, he thought he was hearing things again. "No!" He screamed at the door, and ran to the back of the house, shaking in fear. "I am not crazy!" But who the hell would be ringing his doorbell…?  
  
When the bell rang again, Tommy realized he wasn't hearing things, and cautiously walked to the front door and peeked out. "Oh. Hi."  
  
"Tommy." Adam pushed past Tommy and into the house before the younger man could react, looking at him firmly. "Are you drunk?"  
  
Tommy laughed and shrugged. "Maybe."  
  
"Were you screaming? I heard something…."  
  
"Yeah, I heard something too." Tommy replied, walking back through the house and sitting down on the couch.  
  
Adam glanced at the bottle next to his friend and sat down, looking at Tommy with concern. Tommy was acting, well, crazy…. "Should you really be drinking now?"  
  
"Why not?" Tommy took another chug of whiskey, as if to emphasize his point. "What do I have to lose?"  
  
"Your sanity?"  
  
Tommy threw the almost empty bottle at Adam angrily, watching as whiskey flew around the room. "Fuck you."  
  
"Tommy!" Adam stared at Tommy, unsure of what to do. "I think you should come with me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you can't stay here…"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Adam looked around the house, amazed he would need to explain. "Tommy, this place is a disaster, it's a mess."  
  
"I'll clean."  
  
"Drunk?"  
  
"It's my house, let me worry about it."  
  
"What about the people worrying about you?" Adam shot back.  
  
"Fuck them."  
  
"Tommy, please, just come with me…."  
  
Tommy rolled his eyes and looked at Adam. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Then I'm staying here," Adam replied evenly, laughing when Tommy's eyes widened in anger. "You're not getting rid of me so easily. Is there a clean bed anywhere?"  
  
"No." Tommy shook his head rapidly. "No clean bed, you're not staying here."  
  
"You're not staying here alone, and that's all there is to it." Adam replied, and stood up, grabbing Tommy's hand. "Come on, you're going to bed."  
  
"I'm not tired," Tommy tried to shove Adam, but he was dizzy from the alcohol, and nearly fell over.  
  
"You're going to pass out soon, I don't care if you're tired or not," Adam wrapped an arm around Tommy's back and walked him upstairs to his bedroom. "Get into bed."  
  
Tommy grudgingly followed Adam's directions, having realized this was one fight he was not going to win. He slid under the blankets in bed, and looked up at Adam, "I'm not a baby."  
  
"Everyone should be tucked in every once in a while," Adam replied, smiling lightly as he arranged the blankets around Tommy, as if he was a little kid. "Should I give you a kiss goodnight too?"  
  
"Don't make me sick," Tommy was able to laugh lightly, before his eyes filled with tears. "I can't remember the last time I was tucked in…"  
  
"Tommy, if it'll help you get better, I'll tuck you in every night." Adam said firmly, before turning off the light. "Now get some sleep, I'm going to go find somewhere to lie down."  
  
"I think the guest room has a clean bed," Tommy called after Adam, suddenly feeling guilty for the way he'd been treating his friend. He was only trying to help, right? He owed him an apology…Isaac too…fuck…  
  
Tommy sighed, and rolled over in bed, hoping sleep would come quickly, sure it wouldn't. Not with so many thoughts still going through his head. All the people he was pissing off, all the things he was doing wrong…  
  
He'd deal with it tomorrow.  
  
Adam, Isaac, his mom….  
  
Tomorrow.  
  
*******************************************  
  
"Morning, Tommy," Adam said cheerily as he walked into the room, pulling back the drapes covering the window with a flourish. "Rise and shine!"  
  
Tommy awoke with the sound, and he shaded his eyes from the bright sunshine streaming into the room. "What are you doing?"  
  
"You gotta get up, Tommy," Adam sat down on the side of the bed, and looked at Tommy with a soft smile. "Ok?"  
  
Tommy's eyes narrowed and he sat up slightly, returning Adam's look. "What's going on?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're treating me like, I don't know, weird."  
  
"Nothing weird," Adam shrugged, and stood up. "I'll make you breakfast, OK? Meet me downstairs."  
  
"Wait!" Tommy called after him, jumping out of bed and following him into the hallway. "Why, exactly, do I have to get up? I'm not doing anything today."  
  
"You have an appointment," Adam said quickly, walking down the stairs.  
  
"With?" Tommy asked harshly, grabbing Adam's arm and spinning him around. "Who the fuck did you call?"  
  
"Just your doctor, Tommy, calm down," Adam looked at his arm clutched tightly in Tommy's hand and sighed. "And let go of me."  
  
"I'm not supposed to see my doctor until tomorrow," Tommy said, a feeling of dread filling his heart. His fingers dug into the skin of Adam's forearm as he squeezed, anger taking him over. "What did you do?"  
  
"I called him. He's going to help you, Tommy," Adam said soothingly. He frowned when he saw the wild look in Tommy's eyes, and tried to pull his arm away. "Ok, enough, this hurts, and wrestling on the stairs is not a good idea."  
  
"He's my doctor, Adam! How could you call him?" Tommy shouted, shaking Adam's arm for emphasis. "Now he's on your side, dammit!"  
  
"Tommy! Calm down!" Adam repeated, grabbing onto the railing for support as Tommy shoved him away with a final cry. He rubbed the sore skin of his arm, shaking his head. "Go take a shower."  
  
Tommy stared at Adam, his lower lip trembling as tears filled his eyes. "Fuck you," he hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits. "I should have shoved you harder."  
  
Adam's face fell as he watched Tommy walk away, unable to ignore the hurt he felt at those words. He was only trying to help…surely Tommy didn't mean that…. He turned around and made his way down the stairs, patting the railing with a sigh as he went. Or maybe Tommy just wasn't the person they all had thought he was? These days…he was starting to wonder…  
  
*****************************************  
  
"What happened this morning, Tommy?" Dr. Levine asked, twirling the pen between his fingers.  
The tears Tommy had been battling since he'd been so rudely awakened by Adam that morning finally began to flow, and he wiped at his eyes as he looked at the doctor. "I wanted to sleep, and Adam made me get out of bed." He grabbed a tissue off of the table next to him and blew his nose loudly, shaking his head. "All I wanted to do was sleep! Why can't I sleep? What's so bad about that?"  
  
A slight smile crept across the doctor's face, and he nodded slowly. "You just wanted to sleep."  
  
"Exactly!" Tommy shouted, balling up the tissue in his hand and squeezing it tightly. "Everyone else gets to sleep, why can't I?"  
  
"And you're here, in tears now, because Adam wouldn't let you sleep late this morning."  
  
Tommy closed his mouth tight and looked at the doctor, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Now it sounds stupid." He wiped at his eyes again, and frowned. "I don't know why I keep crying lately, it's annoying."  
  
"A little irrational, getting that upset at one of your best friends because he wanted you to wake up?"  
  
Tommy sighed, "I guess. It didn't feel irrational then….it just felt like…"  
  
"The whole world was coming down on you in the form of Adam?" Tommy nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"I was just so mad at him." Tommy said softly, his eyes falling to the floor. "I think I said something I shouldn't have…"  
  
  
Dr. Levine placed his pad on the desk, and sat back in his chair, looking carefully at Tommy, "From what you have told me so far I have gathered that sometimes you get into moods where you feel very speeded up or irritable. Am I correct?”  
  
“Yes…” Tommy said hesitantly, not understanding Dr. Levine’s point.  
  
“There are also times you feel like thoughts are rushing through your head and you can’t stop them?”  
  
“Exactly!” Tommy nodded enthusiastically.  
  
“And last time we talked about your sleep. Have you ever felt like you don’t need sleep?”  
  
“Most of the time,” Tommy answered getting nervous. What was the doctor trying to say?”  
  
"Tommy, I have a diagnosis for you, and we can start to discuss treatment options now. I need your assurance that you will hear me out, and any questions you have about anything, you will always ask me."  
  
Tommy nodded quickly. "Ok…what's wrong with me?"  
  
Dr. Levine turned to the bookcase next to him and pulled out a large green book. “Have you ever heard of bipolar disorder? It is also known as manic depression?"  
  
Tommy felt his stomach drop through the floor, and he stared at the doctor. "What?"  
  
"It's a form of mental illness." The doctor flipped to the appropriate page in the book and handed it to Tommy. "This is what doctors are to use to diagnose someone with it. Look it over."  
  
The words on the page swam in front of Tommy, and he slammed the book shut with a frown, handing it back to the doctor. "I'm not crazy."  
  
"No, you're not," Dr. Levine replied, smiling at Tommy. "Bipolar is a mood disorder. What that means, is that something, chemical, is interfering with the way you feel. Sometimes you feel very happy, high. What we call mania. And at other times you feel very depressed, very low. And yet at other times you feel perfectly fine." The doctor grabbed a piece of paper and drew a line, showing it to Tommy. "Most people, their emotions run along a pretty fine line. They may bounce up and down a little bit, as good things happen and bad, but for the most part, they're on a pretty even kilter." The doctor drew another line, this time looking more like an EKG readout than anything else, with high and low spikes among the flat line. "This is your emotional scale."  
  
"I go up and down?" Tommy looked at the paper.  
  
"How would you characterize how you felt this morning, when Adam woke you up?" The doctor handed Tommy the piece of paper. "Where would you be on there?"  
  
Tommy pointed at one of the lower spikes with a frown. "Depressed?"  
  
"And now?"  
  
Tommy pointed to the flat line. "Fine."  
  
"What we can do with medication, Tommy, is try to even out your moods," the doctor explained. "Stop the spikes, basically."  
  
"Stop the spikes." Tommy repeated in amazement. "But…I'm hyper…that's just me…"  
  
"Hyper is not manic," Dr Levine reassured Tommy. "We can discuss specific instances, and I fully intend to do so with you, but I promise you, the medication will not stop you from feeling like yourself."  
  
"So what's manic?"  
  
The doctor pulled open the large green book again and pointed to the page. "Now, for each of these, there are requirements for diagnosis. These symptoms must have been observed for a number of years, over a number of different periods, I won't bore you with the details. The major characteristics are," he fixed his eyes on Tommy as he recited from memory. "Racing thoughts or a feeling that ideas, things are flying though your mind, a decreased need for sleep, an inflated feeling of self-worth or grandiosity, increased distractibility, inappropriate humor, you would be more talkative than usual, and stuttering would be a common result. Excessive involvement in pleasurable activities to the extent that you do harm to yourself."  
  
"What?" Tommy had been following the doctor up until the last one.  
  
"Unsafe sex?"  
  
"That's a symptom?" Tommy couldn't help but smile wryly.  
  
"If you were thinking straight, would you use a condom?" The doctor asked, smiling when Tommy nodded. "Have you ever not?"  
  
Tommy's eyes filled with tears as he remembered the last two women he'd brought back to his room, and he sighed. "I think I always remembered…"  
  
"Those are the main indicators of mania." The doctor flipped a page and looked at Tommy. "I'm going to give you a lot of information to read, all we're doing now is going over the basics. Ok?"  
Tommy nodded, he was feeling somewhat numb by now, with the amount of information the doctor was throwing at him.  
  
"The indicators of depression are probably more familiar to you," Dr Levine said slowly, pointing as he read. "Markedly diminished interest in pleasure, or lack of interest in pleasure at all, significant weight loss when not dieting, diminished ability to think or concentrate, recurrent thoughts of death, depressed mood, psychomotor agitation observed by others, feelings worthlessness or guilt… the doctor looked up in surprise when he heard Tommy choke back a sob. "Tommy?"  
  
"I get the point," Tommy covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. "I'm crazy."  
  
"No, Tommy, you have an illness," The doctor said firmly. "One with a definite treatment. All of these things I've been reading to you, they are treatable symptoms."  
  
"You can make it stop?" Tommy whispered, wiping at the tears on his cheeks.  
  
"We can work on treating the symptoms but I can’t completely make it stop..." Dr. Levine replied. "You will always have this illness, you need to understand that. But just like a diabetic needs to take their insulin to survive, so you will need your medication."  
  
"Not to survive…" Tommy rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna die from this."  
  
Dr. Levine closed the book with a bang, getting Tommy's attention. "This is a life-threatening illness, Tommy, understand that now. I'll spare you the statistics, but a great number of people with your condition do not live past the age of 30."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Dr. Levine looked back at Tommy, meeting his gaze. "Suicide."  
  
Tommy's eyes widened, and he shook his head, "I wouldn't kill myself."  
  
"Not right now." The doctor replied evenly. "What about this morning?"  
  
Tommy's face paled, and he frowned as he felt tears streaming down his face again. "I wasn't thinking this morning…"  
  
"Exactly." Dr. Levine nodded. "Now, let's talk medication…."  
  
****************************************  
  
Tommy didn’t speak to Adam for the entire ride back to his house, and he ran up to his room the moment they arrived home, dumping the stack of books and papers he'd gotten on his bed with a sigh. "Shit," he said in amazement, flipping through the piles. It was so weird, seeing explanations for his behavior written out in black and white on pieces of paper. He looked up when he heard a knock on the door, "Yeah?"  
  
"Hi Tommy," Adam walked into the room and sat down on the bed next to Tommy. "Are you feeling any better?"  
  
Tommy's eyes filled with tears, and he looked away from Adam. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier…I would never hurt you, Adam."  
  
"I know, Tommy," Adam said, smiling lightly at his friend. "The doctor, do you like him?"  
  
Tommy shrugged, waving at the books and papers. "He finally has a diagnosis for me…and he gave me all of this."  
  
“What did he say? Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
For the next half hour Tommy filled Adam in on what Dr. Levine had told him earlier.  
"What you say kind of makes sense,” Adam said, looking at the books, “Do you want to get dinner, or do you want to dig right in? I'd like to read these too, if that's ok?"  
  
Tommy looked at Adam, unable to believe his friend was still so nice to him, after everything he'd done. "Of course…and yeah, dinner sounds good."  
  
"I think Isaac would like to come?" Adam asked hesitantly, unsure how Tommy was going to react.  
  
"Yeah, I'd like to see Isaac," Tommy nodded. Apologize to him, apologize to Adam…start to make things right again. He dug a piece of paper out of the stack in front of him and held it up. "And I need to stop by a drugstore."  
  
Adam looked at the prescription and smiled. "Sure, Tommy, we'll do that."  
  
**************************************  
  
That night, Tommy found himself unable to sleep, and throwing the papers on his floor around in frustration. He couldn't concentrate on the words on the page, and it was driving him nuts. He saw an internet address on the top of one of the pages and shrugged, getting up and going over to his laptop.  
  
As he waited for the machine to boot up, he looked over at the pill bottle sitting on his desk. Tegretol. The second most common of the mood stabilizers, as the doctor and all of the papers he'd been given had told him. It would take four to six weeks before it began to work. The doctor had wanted to put him on lithium, which was the most common of the medications used, but the first paper he had handed Tommy listed "20 pound weight gain" as a regular side effect, and he'd balked at the idea. He liked his body and didn’t want to go back to being bigger the way he was before. Like he didn't have enough problems already, right?  
  
He quickly got the computer online and typed in the website address, smiling wryly at the site name. Pendulum. How appropriate...swinging back and forth…he clicked on the site's FAQ and began to read, finding it reiterating most of the material he'd already been reading.  
  
It was so strange, he mused, reading something like this and recognizing yourself in it. He found an 'in plain English' list of things doctors saw as possible signs of bipolar, and gasped out loud in amazement at the list. He read out loud, his finger tracing the list down the page. "Oversleeping while depressed. Overeating while depressed. A patient who when depressed can still joke or laugh. Success as a politician, salesman, actor, or performer of any type." The last one made his eyes pop out of his head, and he sat back, staring at the screen.  
  
"A performer?" He whispered, before deciding that reading the FAQ was boring. He clicked around on the site and found a chatroom, his eyes widening when he saw there were nearly 50 people inside. "Aah, what the hell," he shrugged, and entered, choosing “Duke” as his nickname.  
"Duke" received a few hellos upon entering, and he said “hi” back, watching the conversation in the room. Everyone was complaining about how they couldn't sleep, it looked like, and a few people were joking about wanting to get up and dance. A person nicknamed Tempest said “hi” to him, and asked him what brought him to the room.  
  
After much debate, he hesitantly typed in, "just got diagnosed today."  
  
He was immediately besieged by questions and offers of help from the chatroom, and an IM window popped up with a message from Tempest. "Everyone loves to helps a newbie," with a little animated grin.  
  
"I'm a newbie?" He typed back.  
  
"You've just been reborn, Duke." Tempest typed back, and the words were accompanied by a little trumpet sound. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Reborn?"  
  
"Sure. Getting diagnosed changed my life, it'll change yours too."  
  
Tommy frowned and shook his head. "I like my life; I just want to be able to control it a little better."  
  
The reply came quickly, "the control changes your life, Duke, you'll see how fake your life has been until now."  
  
Tommy's eyes widened and he frowned as tears came to his eyes. He didn't want to get upset, dammit, "stop it."  
  
"Sorry, I don't want to upset you," Tempest sent along a flurry of animated smiley faces. "Smile!"  
  
"Right."  
  
"I bet you have a ton of questions, don'tcha? I'd love to help, I'm totally up for it, and I can never sleep." A sound of a loud snore followed.  
  
Tommy chuckled softly, "I guess. I don't know. I just couldn't sleep and came in here."  
  
"Yeah, lots of us can't sleep. Do you want a tour of the website and stuff? We have a mailing list, all of that…"  
  
Tommy shrugged. "I guess?"  
  
Tempest sent him a website address. "We're a support group online for bipolars, basically. For those of us who don't like doing this sort of stuff in person."  
  
Tommy smiled wryly. He could never do this sort of stuff in person. "That's cool."  
  
"If you want to join, and you're more than welcome to, there are a few things you need to go through, since we're a real support group." Tempest sent him a file with a few lines highlighted for him to read. "The person who runs the group gets a 24 hour contact phone number for someone to reach, in the event it is believed you are going to hurt yourself. TR, he's off-line right now, you'll meet him soon enough, I'm sure, his nickname's Taurus, he is also the only person who ever knows your real name. You have to give him those two pieces of information before he'll let you on the mailing list. Things get intense at times, and we need to know that someone will be able to help you, in the event you need it…"  
  
"What do you mean?" Tommy typed back. "I'm fine.'  
  
"Your doctor explained that you can't be responsible for yourself at all times, right?" Tempest asked. When he didn't type anything back, Tempest continued, followed by a soft warning sound. "When you go up and down, you don't think straight…you're irrational. You're not alone now, are you?"  
  
"No, Adam's here," he replied, before he realized what he'd done.  
  
"No real names," Tempest typed back. "Remember that."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"No biggie." A giggle sound. "Anyway, you'll see, the first time they let you go alone, you'll need to set up a support system, in case you start to cycle."  
  
"Cycle?"  
  
"Go up and down. What are you now, can you tell?" Tempest queried.  
  
Tommy wrinkled his nose and looked at the words, trying to put a finger on how he felt. "No idea."  
  
"You'll get the hang of it."  
  
"Tired."  
  
Tempest sent along a yawn sound. "Then go to bed, being tired is a rare, rare thing around here."  
Tommy laughed and smiled at the screen. "Thanks for talking to me."  
  
"No prob, next time you're on, find TR, he'll get you all set up."  
  
Tommy flipped off the laptop and closed it with a bang, considering the offer. Did he really want to have to tell some stranger his real name and a contact phone number…just so he could get on some mailing list?  
  
Talking to Tempest had been great though, whoever he, she, was…it had been nice hearing from someone else who understood how he felt.  
  
Maybe he'd join the list. Or see what Dr. Levine thought.  
  
Maybe.  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has many colorful names: Melancholia, Mania, Dual-Form Insanity, a Silent Killer. Tommy has "it". He just doesn't know it yet....

"Rise and shine!" Adam called cheerily as he walked into the room, sitting down on the side of the bed and looking at Tommy. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

"Go away," Tommy grumbled, before rolling over onto his side, burying his head under the covers. "Let me sleep."

Adam bit his lip and looked at Tommy's back, trying to figure out what to do. He didn't want a repeat of the morning before, but it was nearly noon, Tommy had to get out of bed. "Isn't the medication working?"

Tommy opened his eyes and turned around to stare at Adam, the brown eyes cold and steely. "It's gonna take almost two months. So leave me alone until then. Go away."

"Oh no, nice try," Adam shook his head and pulled the covers away from Tommy's head. "Get out of bed."

"Let me sleep!" Tommy grabbed at the blankets and yanked them back up, kicking Adam off of the bed. "Fuck, you're not my goddamn mother, get away from me!"

"Want me to call her?" Adam challenged, his eyes blazing angrily. "Dammit, Tommy, I'm trying here. The doctor told me you're sick, that I need to give you some breathing room. But I'm not going to let you do nothing other than lie in bed and sleep!"

"Why the hell not?" Tommy shouted back, before covering his head in the blankets. "Go away."

Adam's eyes widened when he heard a loud sniffle from underneath the blanket, and he sighed heavily. "Tommy…"

"Go _Away_." Tommy yelled, his legs kicking out again.

Adam shook his head slowly, "You're acting like a child, Tommy…"

"Wanna see my driver’s license? Fuck you." Tommy stared at the darkness inside of the blankets. He felt totally alone, totally upset…he saw that line the doctor had drawn, and placed himself way down on the bottom. This was…what did Tempest call it…cycling. He'd cycled down. Waaay down.

"Are you seeing the doctor today?"

No reply, just another sniffle, as Tommy contemplated what good it was knowing you were depressed. After all, it wasn't like knowing you were depressed made you any less depressed.

"Tommy?"

"This afternoon." Tommy said, pulling the blankets tighter around his head.

"What time?"

Tommy wondered if he could find Tempest online; ask if she knew the answer. At least he thought Tempest was a she….

"Tommy, what time?" Adam's voice was starting to sound angry.

Tommy peeked his head out of the top of the blankets to look at Adam. "4:00."

"Are you gonna get out of bed?"

"Will you get out of my room?" Tommy's eyes flashed and he shook his head. "My house, my life? Can I have it back? Just _leave me alone_!" He had enough to think about without having to deal with Adam, dammit, his mind kept him busy enough at the moment.

Adam took a step back and shook his head. "Yeah, Tommy, you know what? You can. Because my boyfriend would like me back at home, since he doesn't get why a 30 year old needs a babysitter, and I'm getting pretty damn sick of this shit."

"Good!" Tommy shouted at him, his eyes growing colder when he saw hurt reflected in Adam's green eyes. "I don't need to prove myself to you; you're just driving me nuts!"

"I just wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself, Tommy," Adam said slowly, his hands balling into fists at his side.

"Better make sure I don't hurt you, Adam, you keep waking me up like this," Tommy sneered, running a hand over his hair. "You said you're leaving, right?"

"Right." Adam turned and left without another word, slamming Tommy's bedroom door behind him.

Tommy jumped slightly at the loud sound, before getting out of bed with a smile. He was on his own now, things would be much better. He turned and looked out of the window of the house, watching as Adam got into his car and left. "Bye bye baby boy," he whispered, waving sarcastically at the disappearing car.

He lay back down in bed for a moment, before sitting up with a frown. He was wide awake now, there would be no getting back to sleep. But what to do…what to do… he looked around the room and smiled, his eyes catching sight of his sunglasses. Beach. He'd go to the beach. It was a beautiful day. It would be a ton of fun…

Tommy quickly got dressed, pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, glancing at himself in the mirror. "Damn, I look good," he grinned, running a comb through his hair. His eyes were shining, his face was flushed…and he didn't want to spend the day on the beach alone, either, he thought to himself, adjusting his shorts.

He bit his lip, as he considered who to call, what to do…he'd met a girl at a club a few months ago, talked to her a few times since. She was ok…nothing special, but…company. That was all he wanted…female company, to be specific. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed, smiling when she quickly accepted his invitation, agreeing to be over in less than an hour. "Easy as pie," he grinned.

He'd have a fun day on the beach with a beautiful, wonderful girl, he decided, inflating the girl to fit his fantasies of the day. And with that, he pulled open the door to his room and left, ready to start the day.

***************************************

Tommy stared out at the sun reflecting off of the water, and smiled. Now this was exactly what he'd needed. "Hey babe? Hand me a beer?" He asked the leggy blonde sitting next to him, accentuating his question with a soft kiss.

"Sure, Tommy," she cooed, running her fingers over the back of his neck before leaning over the cooler box.

Tommy watched her from the corner of his eyes, his eyes appreciatively running over her form. Damn, he had good taste in women, he thought to himself. He clasped behind his head. "This is good," he said to himself, stretching in the sunlight.

"Here," The girl handed one of the beers to Tommy.

"Thanks," Tommy said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder before taking a deep chug of his beer. "So, Leigh…."

"I had been wondering if you were going to call me, I heard you guys were home again," Leigh said thoughtfully, sipping delicately at her beer.  
   
Tommy looked at her dimly, "Sure, I said I'd call."

"I heard a lot of stuff…" she said softly, looking at him. “Have you been sick or something?"

Tommy's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head, "No, I'm fine."

"You just look pale, and you've kinda lost weight," Leigh remarked, her eyes running over his body. "Not that you're too thin or anything, just, you look…"

Tommy stood up, staring at Leigh in a strange combination of surprise and confusion. He had been sick in his head; it wasn't supposed to show physically, right? He always managed to look ok… "I'm fine! Who the hell do you think you are, trying to tell me how I look…?"

"I'm just concerned, Tommy," She said, jumping up to comfort him. "Tommy Joe…"

"Jesus, don't call me Tommy Joe," Tommy pushed her away and started walking away. "It's Tommy."

"Something's clearly wrong, Tommy," Leigh tried again, following him.

"How would you know?" Tommy whirled around and glared at her, his eyes cold. "You think you know me, Leigh? What, because I fucked you one night? Give me a fucking break," he rolled his eyes as her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, don't tell me, that night was special?"

"You're a nice guy, Tommy, what's so wrong about me caring," She said softly, shaking her head. "And we didn't have sex that night, you passed out, idiot," she added, smirking when his eyes flared in anger. "Some girls want more than just sex."

"Oh, bullshit," Tommy hissed. "You're all the same; all you want is a good time. What did you think when I called you this morning, that I was taking you to the beach to talk?” He searched his pockets for his keys, “Fuck, why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut?"

"What?" Leigh kept a few feet between herself and Tommy, what she felt was a safe distance, as she followed him. He was scaring her, the way he'd gone from being fine and happy to angry in an instant like that.

"Everything was fine, until you had to open your fucking mouth," he grumbled. "I need a woman who won't talk. Just fuck."

Leigh's eyes widened and she stared at Tommy. "Ok, when I said you were a nice guy, I lied…"

"As I said, you don't know me," Tommy shot back, shaking his head at her silly remark. "I swear, if you don't stop talking, you're not going to make it back home."

"What?"

"I will fucking kill you if you do not stop talking to me!" Tommy shouted at her, smiling when she just stood there, frozen to the spot. "Better."

Leigh wrapped her arms around herself and stared at Tommy, her mouth tightly closed. She didn't think she was such a lousy judge of character, or at least, she hadn't been….

Tommy leant against the car in silence for a while, before turning around to look at Leigh.

"What?" She stared back at him, unable to read his expression. This was the last time she was going clubbing and hitting on some musician she barely knew, dammit, this wasn't fun anymore.

"Wanna make it up to me?" He said coyly, a half smile on his face.

"Make what up to you?" Leigh shook her head. "Let’s just go home, Tommy, I want to leave."

Tommy's hand slid inside the top of his shorts, and he walked slowly over to Leigh, grinning at her. "You really want to leave?"

"What?" She backed up until her back was against the car, and Tommy was standing directly in front of her. She watched him slide his hand down his pants and grasp hold of himself, her eyes widening in amazement as his face contorted with pleasure. "Tommy?"

Tommy stared down at her, his eyes hazy. "Get on your knees," he said gruffly, pushing her down with his spare hand.

Leigh was so surprised that she found herself on the sand before she knew it, her face firmly planted in Tommy's crotch as he ground his hips into her. "What?" She repeated, totally confused by the turn of events.

"Babe, you're not stupid," Tommy said harshly as he yanked his shorts down, his hand still working over himself. "You got a mouth, use it for something good."

Leigh stared at his penis for a moment before complying, figuring it would be easier to just do it. She reached out and licked him softly, hearing him respond with a loud moan. She took him into her mouth, grunting in pain when he shoved his hips into her. "Ow, watch it," she mumbled around him, her hands clasping his rear.

"Shut up," Tommy's hands tangled through her hair, roughly pressing her head down onto him. His eyes fluttered shut as she began sucking on him, and he was forced to let her go so he could lean onto the boat side for balance. He smiled as he realized she was remaining silent, and let himself go, grinding his hips into her with a loud cry as he came.

Leigh stood up almost immediately to spit over the sand, retching noises coming from her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Tommy asked her, his eyes wild, as he fought to regain control of his breath.

"I want to go home," Leigh slid weakly to the sand and looked up at Tommy, a sad expression on her face. "Please, take me home…"

"We're going, we're going," Tommy told her, shaking his head at her. "What's wrong with you?"

She looked at him in amazement, unable to believe he could have no idea why she was so upset. "Nothing," she whispered, fighting tears as she wiped her mouth off on the back of her hand.

"Leigh?" Tommy's expression grew concerned, and he moved closer to her and knelt down in front of her. "Why are you crying? Leigh, you were really good, don't cry," he took her hands and kissed them one at a time.

She jerked her hands away and stood up, running to the other side of the car. "Just… get me home, Tommy, please," her voice trembled as she spoke, and she prayed he would just do as she asked.

"Why are you so worked up, baby?" Tommy's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "Look," he walked toward her, smiling at her gently. "You didn't get yours, did you? What kind of a man am I?" He bent down and kissed her softly, his tongue delicately flickering over her lips.

"No, Tommy," she protested, trying to push him away. He was acting like a thousand different people, she couldn't take this. Why was he so sweet now?? "I don't need…"

"Oh, yeah you do," Tommy deftly slid a hand inside of her shirt and cupped her breast, grinning when she moaned softly. "Come on, let me repay you…."

"Oh, Tommy," Leigh was unable to stop the groan that left her mouth as she felt Tommy's finger slide inside of her panties, running over her softness. "Shit…."

Tommy pushed her down on the sand with a grin, bending down and licking at her neck. "See, I can make it up to you."

"Yeah, I guess you can," Leigh happily agreed as she felt him kiss her again, her senses tingling. Alright, so maybe what happened before was just Tommy's weird version of foreplay? Whatever it was…she thought with a gasp as she felt him pull off her pants, his tongue licking down her stomach…it was worth it…

****************************************

********  
  
"I had fun today, Tommy," Leigh smiled and kissed him as he opened her door for her, grinning up into his brown eyes.  
  
"Me too," Tommy replied, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeply. "We'll need to do this again sometime." He took her hand and started walking up to her door, swinging their arms back and forth playfully.  
  
"Sure…." She said somewhat hesitantly. Tommy had been wonderful, all except for that thing earlier, anyway.  
  
"You don't sound so sure," Tommy pouted at her, not relenting until she kissed him again. "Better?"  
  
"Tommy, this morning," Leigh's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "What happened?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Tommy shrugged, "Nothing."  
  
"You were acting…weird…" she insisted. “Were you on something, did it wear off or something?"  
  
Tommy rolled his eyes, "Nothing. So, I'll call you, ok?" He gave her a gentle push towards her door, frowning when she stood in place. "What?"  
  
"If you need to talk or anything, call me, ok?" Leigh said, looking him up and down with a sigh. He was so sweet, and she couldn't resist him, but something seemed so wrong…  
  
"I thought we established your mouth is better used doing things other than talking," Tommy snapped, shaking his head. "Didn't we?"  
  
Leigh's mouth dropped open as she stared at him. "Yours too, Tommy." She shot back, spinning around and walking inside without another word.  
  
Tommy's eyes narrowed with anger as he watched her close the door right to his face. "Bitch," he hissed, storming back into his car and drove home.  
  
Once inside, he looked at the answering machine, frowning when he saw the light blinking rapidly at him. "Shut up," he swept the machine off of the table with a wave of his arm, grinning when it shattered on the floor.  
  
He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. His eyes fell on his bottle of pills, and he picked them up, trying to remember if he'd taken one that morning. "I think so?" He said hesitantly, opening the bottle and looking inside. There were a lot left. How the hell was he supposed to tell if he'd taken one? "What the hell," he fished out a pill and swallowed it with a chug of beer.  
  
Sitting back on the couch, he thought back over the day. Leigh…Leigh….she was cute, but, he frowned. She just seemed to push all of his buttons wrong. Everything would be fine, then she'd say something, and, bang, he'd be all worked up. What was that…he mused. Cycling?  
  
Tommy's eyes widened in horror when the phone began ringing and he turned to stare at it, trying to decide what to do. He'd broken his answering machine, and if he didn't answer…what if someone came over? He didn't want anyone coming over…he jumped up and grabbed the phone. "Hello?"  
  
"Tommy, oh god, you've had me worried sick."  
  
Tommy could have sworn his heart stopped as he recognized his mother's voice, and he slammed down the phone, shaking from head to toe. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he sat down on the floor with the phone in his lap, trying to stop trembling. "Why did she call, dammit, what does she want…."  
He started crying when the phone began ringing again, and stared at it, terrified to answer. "No, mom, go away," he shouted at the phone, screaming when it refused to stop. "What!" He finally answered the phone.  
  
"Tommy, I'm on my way over," His mother’s voice was trembling as she spoke. "Honey, please, I haven't been able to reach you for days, I'm just worried about you…"  
  
"No, mom," Tommy's stomach sunk as he recognized the undeniable sound of his mother crying. "Mom, don't cry, I'm fine…"  
  
"No, Tommy, you're not," she said softly. "Just stay on the phone with me, ok? We're coming now."  
  
"Who's we?" Tommy said quickly, his eyes widening. "Mom, who's with you? Where is Lisa?"  
  
"She is home," his mother replied. "Tommy, I'll be there in 10 minutes, just sit tight, ok?"  
  
"Who's with you?" Tommy shouted, clutching the phone to his head. "Goddammit, mom, what the fuck!" He was unable to hold back a sob, and wiped at the tears on his face. "I want to be alone, can't you get that?!"  
  
"Tommy!"  
  
"Fuck all of this," Tommy threw the phone across the room angrily, cursing when it shattered much as the answering machine had. "I didn't mean to break it. Oops," he said sarcastically, laughing at his own joke. "What to do, what to do…" he spun around in a circle, looking at his house, trying to figure out what the hell to do. His mother was on her way over, with god only knows who, for god only knows what reason…. " _Shit_!" He cursed, realizing why. He'd missed his doctor's appointment today. The fuck had probably called her.  
  
"I gotta get out of here." He decided, grabbing his car keys off of the table and he walked out the door.  
  
***********************************************  
  
"Bill Maher," Tommy signed the hotel registry with a smirk, smiling at the stupid clerk who accepted the form.  
  
"Thank you Mr. Maher," The man read from the page in front of him. "And that's one room?"  
  
"A suite," Tommy said quickly, opening his wallet and digging for his credit card. "The best you have."  
  
The clerk looked at Tommy doubtfully, and then gestured to the elegant hotel lobby. "We are not the Kayak, sir, surely you're aware…"  
  
Tommy just pulled out his credit card and waved it in front of the man's face. "Please stop talking."  
  
The man accepted the credit card without another word and disappeared to check it.  
  
Tommy's fingers impatiently danced on the counter while he waited, rolling his eyes when the man returned with a confused look. "What?"  
  
"This credit card is in the name of Tommy Ratliff," the man handed the card back to Tommy. "I'm sorry I cannot accept it."  
  
"Look," Tommy bent in close to the counter, pulling his driver’s license out of his wallet. "I'm Tommy. I can't stay under my name because I'm in a band,  people know who I am, so I use Bill Maher as an alias. OK?"  
  
"I'm not supposed to…"  
  
Tommy pulled some bills out and slipped them into the man's hand. "I'm sure you can work something out."  
  
The man's eyes widened as he stared at the wad of bills in his hand, and he nodded slowly. "Yes, I'm sure I can."  
  
"Now, about that room?" Tommy asked again, holding his hand out for a key.  
  
"Yes, sure, in a moment, Mr. Ratliff…"  
  
Tommy's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Maher."  
  
"Mr. Maher, of course."  
  
*********************************************************  
  
A few hours later, Tommy was flipping impatiently through the channels on the hotel television system, bored out of his mind. "You'd think, for what they charge they would have something fun to do in here," he grumbled, throwing the remote across the room with a sigh. Although…his eyes widened as he had an idea. Leigh's problem had been that she wouldn't shut up, right? What about a woman who knew better than to talk….  
  
He reached over and grabbed the hotel phone, dialing the front desk. He coughed once and introduced himself as Mr. Maher, waiting to be connected to the clerk he'd spoken with earlier. When the man was on the line, he explained that he was looking for some…special…services, and inquired if the man would be able to arrange for that. His eyes lit up when the man immediately picked up on what he was asking for, and told him to make any charges to his credit card.  
  
He hung up the phone and sat back, happy with his plans for the evening. He considered calling his mother, just to let her know he was alive, but quickly abandoned that idea, deciding he'd speak with her tomorrow.  
  
Served her right, anyway, she never should have just announced she was coming over like that. And definitely not without telling him who was in the car with her. That just wasn't fair.  
  
He should call someone, though, he didn't want them to worry. Biting his lip, he picked up the phone and called Isaac. He grinned happily when his friend's answering machine picked up, and left a happy message telling about how he just wanted to get away for a few days and he'd call when he got back.  
  
There, now nobody needed to worry. Reaching over, he grabbed a beer from the mini bar, quickly opening it and taking a deep gulp. Maybe the clerk would even think to arrange for something else, he thought, looking at the bottle of beer. Something…stronger…he sighed, and wondered how long it would take for his entertainment to arrive. Now he was bored…  
  
He stood up and paced back and forth, his teeth working at his lower lip. Something to do, something to do….he picked up the television remote from the floor and turned the TV on, flipping through channels at rapid pace. No, boring…too slow…  
  
Picking up the phone again, he dialed information, getting the number of the nearest computer store. When the store answered, he took a deep breath before speaking calmly. "I will give one thousand dollars to you if bring a PS3, and three games to the hotel I am staying at. I don't care what games." He laughed when he heard a loud clank as the person on the other end dropped the phone, and waited for the person to come back on. "I'm serious."  
  
"A thousand bucks," the man on the other end said in disbelief. "Yeah, right."  
  
"And I'll pay for the PS3 and games, of course." He'd get the clerk to give him some cash charged to his credit card, in return for some more for the clerk, of course. Money could get him anything, he knew full well.  
  
"Oh, bullshit."  
  
"I can't leave my hotel," Tommy explained. "Come on, man, I want to play."  
  
"Yeah, right, I'm not driving all the way out to some hotel on some fucking prank."  
  
"Two thousand."  
  
"What?"  
  
Tommy shrugged, what the hell, it was only money. He could always make more. "Fine, 3."  
  
"What hotel, I'll be there ASAP."  
  
Tommy snickered and gave the man his information, telling him to ask for Mr. Maher.  
Games, girls, what else did he need, he thought, as he hung up the phone. He had money burning, time to spend…finishing off his beer, he grabbed another one, looking into the mini bar. Well, more beer, for one…  
  
*******************************************  
  
"Hey, babe?" Tommy looked at the brunette lying naked on the bed, a lazy grin on his face.  
  
"Yeah, sweetie?" She asked, leaning over and kissing his stomach. He was a cute one, and definitely seemed to be enjoying himself.  
  
"Roll over," Tommy turned her onto her back, grabbing the small vial of cocaine from the nightstand she had brought with her. He spilled some out onto her stomach before leaning over her, sniffing it up. "You want?" He offered some to her, capping it with a small smile when she waved it off. "Ok, your loss."  
  
The woman reached down and grabbed Tommy's length in her hand, grinning as it sprung back to life. This kid just kept going, and going, "Been a while for you, had it, hon?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Tommy's eyes closed as he felt her mouth surround him, and he sighed happily.  
  
"You're one horny boy," she remarked, her hands running over his chest to tweak his nipples.  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm young," Tommy pulled her up roughly and pushed her legs apart. "And this is why you're here, right?" He shoved himself inside of her, groaning with pleasure."Yeah, like that," he hissed between his teeth as he felt her moving against him. He'd never fucked a hooker before tonight, might as well do it as many times as possible, he thought, gasping when he felt her clench down on him. "Damn…"  
  
"Just relax, baby, I'll make you feel good," the woman cooed, pushing Tommy onto his back and crawling on top of him. She ground herself down onto his length, unable to resist a soft moan as he slid deeper inside of her.  
  
"Stop talking," Tommy whispered, his hands finding her hips and holding her in place.  
  
She complied, her hips working faster and harder on him, watching his face contort as he reached his peak. "Yeah, baby, just like that," she whispered, smiling as he jerked and cried out, feeling the wetness spreading inside of her.  
  
Tommy lay still for a minute before pushing her off of him, rolling over in bed without a word.  
  
"You wanna go again?" She asked, running a finger down his back. "Or are you done?"  
  
Tommy looked at her for a moment, his eyes trailing over her body. She really wasn't an attractive woman, he thought to himself, although she was a good fuck. "I'm done." He groaned with disgust as she got up and began to get dressed, shaking his head. God, what had he been thinking…he reached over and grabbed the cocaine from the nightstand, shaking the little vial. Not too much left…not that it really mattered. He didn't really like the stuff, even, but it was something, and he'd needed _something_ to calm him down; other than this woman, of course.  
  
"Bye, sweetie," the woman waved a well-manicured hand at him as she left, closing the door tightly behind her.  
  
Tommy waved back at her, rolled over, and fell into a happy, drug induced, asleep.  
  
**************************************************  
  
"I didn't ask for a wakeup call," Tommy grumbled when the phone rang, and he smacked at it in annoyance. It didn't listen to him and stop ringing, however, and he picked it up with a frown. "What?"  
  
"Excuse me, Mr. Maher," it was the clerk from the day before. "There is someone here who swears he knows you…Mr. Ratliff," he added in a hushed tone.  
  
"What?" Tommy sat up straight in bed, his eyes wide open, "Who? How the hell…."  
  
"He says his name is…"  
  
"Tommy, it's me, what the _fuck_ are you doing?" Adam shouted into the phone.  
  
Tommy nearly dropped the receiver in his surprise, and he stared at the phone in amazement. "Fuck."  
  
"What room is he in?" Tommy heard Adam shout at the clerk, and cursed again.  
  
"He's on his way up," the clerk said to Tommy before hanging up the phone.  
  
"Shit shit shit!" Tommy jumped up and looked around the room, shaking his head. He had to clean this up….he grabbed the vial of cocaine, frowning when he saw it was empty, and threw it in the garbage. The stack of cash he'd been spending on the table went into a drawer, and the sheets on the floor were hastily thrown back on top of the bed.  
  
He threw on a t-shirt and jeans, and ran a hand through his hair, looking himself over in the mirror as a pounding started on the door. "Coming!" He shouted, walking through the large suite to open the door. "How the hell did you find me?" He asked as he pulled the door open.  
Adam didn't say a word, he just grabbed Tommy's arm and dragged him into the hallway, ignoring his shouts in protest.  
  
"Get the fuck off of me!" Tommy tried to squirm away from Adam, but Adam was stronger and larger than he was, and they continued down the hallway, not stopping until they were in the elevator. "Adam, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but…"  
  
"Tommy, shut the fuck up." Adam said harshly, pounding the button for the lobby angrily. "Your mother has been in tears for the last two days, scared to death you're dead. Last night, you leave some dumbass message on Isaac's machine sounding out of your mind, scaring him. Do you really not care about anyone anymore?"  
  
Tommy stared at Adam, his eyes wide. "I called Isaac so you guys wouldn't worry…"  
  
"Oh, yeah, sure, Tommy, you take off the day after you're diagnosed with something like this, and nobody's gonna worry?" Adam grabbed Tommy's arm tight as the door opened. "Are you going to fight with me the whole way through the lobby, or can we get out without making a scene?"  
  
"I left my shit in the room…"  
  
"Your friend will send it to you," Adam gestured to the clerk waving at them. "He told me what he did for you last night."  
  
Tommy's stomach sank, and he followed Adam through the lobby with heavy feet. "Oh."  
  
"Did you have fun?" Adam asked sarcastically, giving Tommy a rough shove. "A hooker, Tommy?"  
  
"It sounded like fun last night," he shrugged.  
  
"Get in," Adam pointed to his car and waited for Tommy to get in first before sliding in, and locking the doors. "You really don't get how sick that is?"  
  
"It was fun," Tommy repeated, staring out the window as the car started. It might not make much sense now, but it was fun, then….as long as he didn't think about what he'd done, he would be ok…  
  
"You realize you spent nearly five thousand dollars last night?" Adam said softly, pulling onto the highway.  
  
Tommy's eyes widened in horror as he stared at Adam. "That much?" He'd known he was being silly, but…that bad?  
  
"I hope you had fun, Tommy," Adam continued slowly, driving carefully.  
  
"Whatever," Tommy said with a shrug.  
  
"You can’t afford that, Tommy," Adam took his eyes off of the road to stare at the smaller man for a moment. "Don't you see how stupid what you did last night was?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Adam rolled his eyes in exasperation at Tommy's dumb expression, and shook his head. "Forget it."  
  
"Where are we going?" Tommy asked, realizing he didn't have a clue.  
  
Adam didn't answer; he just concentrated on the road in front of him. The more he talked to Tommy, the angrier he got. He had done some research yesterday and now knew that Tommy was cycling, he didn't realize what he was doing, but…dammit…  
  
"Where are we going?" Tommy repeated, his voice growing louder.  
  
"Tommy…."  
  
"Where are you taking me, Adam, dammit, I'll jump out of the car right now!" Tommy threatened his hand on the door handle. "I don't give a shit how fast you're going…"  
  
"You're going to a hospital, Tommy," Adam said softly, his heart breaking at Tommy's strangled cry at his words. "God, I don't want to have to bring you there either…"  
  
"I'm not crazy, Adam, you can't put me in a hospital!" Tommy's eyes filled with tears, and he felt his hands begin to shake with fear. "Please, don't, no…"  
  
"It’s just for an evaluation Tommy. They will decide afterwards if you should stay with them for a while or not. Tommy you keep taking off, and you have to get better," Adam clutched the steering wheel tight, determined to stay strong. Tommy was being reckless and the doctor said he had to bring Tommy in for an assessment. He was not quite sure Tommy would be safe to be left on his own. What if his suicidal thoughts came back when he was by himself? What if he hurt himself or even others? He just had to be strong for both of them and do what he thought was right.  
  
"Adam, please," Tommy started crying, the idea of being put in a mental hospital absolutely terrifying to him. "How can you let them do that to me?”  
  
"Tommy, stop," Adam couldn't turn to look at him, the sight of Tommy crying would kill him. He had to do this.  
  
"Adam," Tommy sobbed, covering his head with his hands. "Don't lock me up…"  
  
"I'm sorry, Tommy," Adam said softly, fighting his own tears as tried to block out the sounds of the younger man's sobs. God, this was so hard… "We tried to get you help, tried to keep you out of a hospital…you took off. You did this to yourself, Tommy, but I’m still, so, so sorry."  
  
"Please, Adam…."  
  
"Tommy, I have to." Adam bit his lip as he felt a tear fall down his face, and he stared at the road in front of him. He'd drive faster…that's all….  
  
Tommy tried to control his sobs, staring at him with big red eyes. He was just so scared…  
  
" _Please_!" He let out one last anguished cry, his eyes widening slightly when he saw Adam's face crack. "Please?" he tried again.  
  
Summoning all of his strength, Adam fixed his eyes on Tommy. "I love you, Tommy, and that's why I'm doing this. You're going to the hospital for at least an assessment. That's it." He turned away before Tommy could react, steeling himself against the cries that followed. His eyes straight on the road in front of him, he continued on to the hospital, praying he was doing the right thing.  
  
****************************************************************  
  
"I'm not crazy," Tommy whispered, as the nurse closed the door behind him. He looked around the room with a frown before throwing himself down on the bed which seemed to be bolted down. "Looks like a fucking hospital," he grumbled, burying his head in mattress. He turned around to stare at the door as it opened, watching as a male nurse walked in. "Don't you knock?"  
  
The nurse looked at him blankly, before smiling wryly. "No, I don't." He looked around the floor of the room, frowning.  
  
"What?" Tommy looked at him questioningly.  
  
The nurse looked Tommy up and down. He pointed to Tommy's feet, "I need your shoes for a second."  
  
"Why?" Tommy crossed his legs in front of him, holding his shoes. "They're just my boots."  
  
"I need 'em," He sat down on the bed next to Tommy and pulled off one of his boots, laughing at Tommy's angry shout. "Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm Nick, I'm your night nurse." The other boot quickly followed, and the nurse wrinkled his nose comically at the smell.  
  
"What the hell are you doing to my shoes?" Tommy stared as the nurse yanked out the laces, before tossing the pair back to him.  
  
"No shoelaces." Tommy stood up and looked at Nick again, his eyes falling on the chain around his neck. "No necklaces either," he held out his hand. "Give it up."  
  
"Fuck no," Tommy's hand closed around the chain at his neck, and he shook his head. "I don't take this off."  
  
"Tommy," Nick looked at him firmly, a solemn expression on his face. "You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not, for at least the next 48 hours. You're involuntarily committed for that long, you understand that, right?"  
  
Tommy rolled his eyes and nodded, he'd heard the admissions officer tell him all of that. His mother had signed papers committing him, but since he was over 18, it could only last for 48 hours. His mother had committed him. Bitch.  
  
"So you'd better get used to doing what I say, it'll make things a lot easier on you." Nick waved his hand impatiently. "Now, the necklace."  
  
Tommy reluctantly unclasped the chain, handing it to Tommy with a sigh. "Why are you taking all of this away from me?"  
  
"Suicide watch, man," Nick told him, before turning to leave. "I'll be back in a little while, just settle in, get used to the place."  
  
Tommy stared at the door as it closed, his eyes filling with tears. Suicide watch? He wasn't suicidal…was he? He looked at his lace-less boots hanging wide open on the floor. How the hell was he supposed to wear those? Someone sure thought he was suicidal…  
  
He got up and began exploring the small room, peeking his nose in the drawers; nothing, not even a bible. Hotels, normal hospitals, at least you got a bible… He stuck his nose in the shower, frowning when he didn’t see any towels, toothbrush or soap. The room was practically bare. Damn.  
  
He walked back out to the room and sat down on the bed with a sigh, pulling his legs up into his chest. God, how could he have ended up in this place…even if it was only for 48 hours? He wasn't crazy, he didn't belong here. He stared at the floor, and shook his head. If he wasn't crazy before, surely being locked up in this room would drive him crazy…  
  
Tommy's head shot up when he heard the door open, and his eyes widened when he recognized Dr. Levine walking in. "Man, you gotta get me out of here, Adam, my mom, they think I'm crazy," he ran to the doctor and pleaded with him, his face falling when the man just walked into the room and shut the door behind him.  
  
"Adam brought you here at my suggestion," Dr. Levine said softly, sitting down in a chair across from the bed. "Have a seat, Tommy."  
  
"But why? I'm not crazy, I wasn't hurting anyone," Tommy argued, sitting down on the bed with a frown. "I just took off. So what? People do stuff like that all the time."  
  
"You hurt a lot of people by taking off, Tommy, and you took some pretty big chances with yourself as well. Everyone was concerned about you. Have you thought about what you did?"  
  
Tommy frowned and bit his lip, shaking his head slowly. "What's done is done, right?"  
  
"It's very important you examine your own behavior, Tommy. I cannot emphasize to you enough how much realizing what in your life is you, and what is your illness, will change your life."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Tommy looked at the doctor dimly. "I do stupid shit. That's me. I fucked up. Again."  
  
The doctor smiled wryly, and shook his head. "Sounded to me like you were manic, Tommy, if you tell me about what happened, I can help you understand your behavior better."  
  
"What?"  
  
"One of the most classic signs of a manic episode is a reckless spending of money. You would be amazed at the extremes people go to, nearly every bipolar has at least a few stories. Same for the dangerous pursuit of pleasure…" Dr. Levine's eyes met Tommy's.  
  
"Adam told you about the hooker." It wasn't a question.  
  
"Of course." Dr. Levine replied. "You might want to get yourself tested…just to make sure you are alright."  
  
Tommy frowned, and lowered his eyes. "I already needed to anyway, I guess."  
  
"As I said, Tommy, what happened to you was classic behavior. I have many patients who end up in much worse situations, you're extremely lucky, not only because Adam found you, but also because you didn't bankrupt yourself doing what you did. Most people do."  
  
"Oh." Tommy didn't know what else to say. What good did knowing he was manic then do…now? He'd still done it…  
  
The doctor game Tommy his pill. "Did you take your medication this morning?"  
  
Tommy took the pill with a frown. "No."  
  
"You might want to take that pill," a bottle of water was next tossed across the room. "The sooner you start showing a will to live and get better the sooner you can leave."  
  
"Get better…I don't feel sick!" Tommy shouted, throwing the bottle and the water back at the doctor. "I was hyper last night; I was horny, so fucking what? Adam, my mom, they all pissed me off, I didn't want to deal with them anymore."  
  
"That hyper you felt, Tommy, did you really like feeling it?" The doctor challenged. "Why did you take off, really? To run from Adam and your mother? Or to run from what you were feeling in your own head? To distract yourself?"  
  
Tommy's eyes widened and his face fell. "I was bored…I needed something to do."  
  
"Most people, Tommy, they don't feel like that. You don't have to feel like that."  
  
"Really?" Tommy felt his eyes fill with tears again, and frowned.  
  
"Really, Tommy, most people don't have to fight their own head." The doctor watched as Tommy dissolved into tears at his words, and sighed. "You're gonna be all right, Tommy, if you make the choice to help yourself. It will take work but that I believe in you. I know you can do it."  
  
As Tommy cried, he stared back at the doctor, feeling like he was never going to be all right. Most people didn't feel like him, huh…so he was what…broken? Defective….then how would he ever be all right?  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
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	6. The Story of a Son - Chapter 6

**Title:** The Story of a Son - Chapter 6  
 **Fandom:** Adam Lambert  
 **Author:** something_rare/felicityfic/aidalma  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Pairings:** None  
 **Main Character:** Tommy Joe Ratliff, Adam Lambert, Isaac Carpenter, Monte Pittman, David Immerman, Camila Grey, OMC, OFC  
 **Word Count:** ~ 6,630  
 **Disclaimer:** This story deals with a very serious illness. So it might be triggering for some people. If you feel you are identifying with Tommy, instead of using the story as a diagnose tool, please seek professional help.  
 **Beta:** [](http://breatherepeat.livejournal.com/profile)[**breatherepeat**](http://breatherepeat.livejournal.com/) . This story and I owe her a lot. Without her, none of this would be possible. I love you!

 

  
Tommy sat sullenly in his chair, staring at the people in the circle around him. Ok, this was awful…he had begged and pleaded with Nick not to make him go to the group counseling session, that someone was going to recognize him, that it would be terrible, and the bastard had just laughed at him. If word got out that he was in here…. He looked over the men and women surrounding him. Most of them looked older than him, except for two teenage girls, one of whom was eyeing him carefully, and one guy, who looked about his age.

The doctor who Tommy had spoken with upon his admission earlier that day walked into the room, smiling. "Evening, everyone."

Most of the people in the room replied, "Evening, Dr. Anderson," except for Tommy, who just stared sullenly at the floor in front of him.

"We have new members in our little circle tonight," Dr. Anderson looked at Tommy and a young girl and smiled. "Everyone meet Tommy and this is Holly."

Tommy smiled weakly at the "Hi's" the other patients in the group sent their way before returning his eyes to the floor and listened as Dr. Anderson started talking.

“I’d like to remind you all again that what happens here in the group will remain in the group. All the information shared here is completely confidential,” Dr. Anderson said, looking at a young girl, “Holly, do you have anything you want to share with the group?”

Holly slowly stood up, “Hi everyone. My name is Holly and I’m bipolar.

Tommy's head shot up, and he stared at the doctor. How could she just say something like that? She made it sound so simple.

Once Holly talked a little about herself and her condition, Dr. Anderson turned his attention on Tommy. “How about you Tommy?”

Tommy looked around the group. “Em…hi. I’m Tommy…I guess I’m…” he shrugged, “bipolar.”

"Bipolar, huh?" The 20 something guy turned to the doctor with a curious expression on his face. "So who's stuck with him?"

"We still have not discussed how long Tommy is going to be here with us. If he stays longer, he'll probably be your roommate." The doctor replied, laughing when the guy's face fell. "You knew you couldn't keep a single for long…"

"Yeah, but…fuck…"

Tommy looked at the guy, his eyes narrowed. "I'm not staying, don't worry about it."

"So you say now," he shot back. "I thought I wasn't staying either…."

"Brian," Dr. Anderson said in a warning tone, before turning to Tommy. "You can remain in the single until your 48 hours are up."

"Gee, thanks," Tommy said sarcastically.

"We run a very informal group here, Tommy," Dr. Anderson explained, waving around the room. "We meet here for an hour every night, the point really being for everyone to get off whatever's on their chest. No intensive therapy, nothing like that, just…talk."

"What's on your chest, Kate?" Brian sneered at one of the teenage girls, and her face flushed angrily. "Twenty thousand dollars, baby…"

"Fuck off," Kate rolled her eyes. "This is why group is stupid, Doc, Brian takes all our shit and turns it on us."

"Brian knows better than to do that," Dr. Anderson scolded. "Anything said in this room stays in this room, and bringing past topics up to hurt someone accomplishes nothing."

"Oh, come on, the girl's got a chest full of silicone, why can't I have some fun with it?" Brian snickered. "After all, what else is there to look at around here…?" He looked Tommy up and down, and shook his head regretfully. "You couldn't be a girl, could you?"

Tommy just stared blankly back at Brian, pretty sure an answer wasn't required.

"Tommy why don't you kick things off for tonight…what's on your mind?" Dr. Anderson asked him.

Tommy snorted. "Getting out of here?"

"No shit Sherlock," the other girl groaned. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, blowing a stream of smoke at Tommy as she looked him over coolly. "You're a bipolar? Get used to places like this if you're gonna think that way. When you're here, think about getting better, not out…out just gets you in trouble."

"Tori doesn't believe in medication," Dr. Anderson filled Tommy in with a wave.

"I believe in medication!" She protested, shaking her head. "I just forget to take it…"

"…on purpose…" Brian interrupted her with a smile. "Nobody just forgets their medication for a month, Tori."

Tori sighed heavily, and shrugged. "I miss getting manic, OK? Then, of course, I actually get manic, and remember how much I hate being manic, and then I end up back in here …”

“Does anyone of you guys have anything about Tori’s issue you want to share with the group?”

An older woman raised her hand, “I'm on Zyprexa and Vyvanse. I’m very tired through the whole day and often debate about going off them...but then I remember how everyday was a constant battle of emotion and inappropriate behavior that left me anxious feelings of worthlessness,” Dr. Anderson nodded encouraging her to go on, “Now I feel like Edward Scissor Hands. Literally. Emotions aimed towards me just confuse me and I just ignore it, and respond. No empathizing really.”

"Maybe if you concentrated a little more on why you stop taking your medication, instead of the fastest way out the door, we might not be seeing you again so soon?" Another man suggested.

"Yeah, whatever…." Tori rolled her eyes.

"Tommy, you were interrupted, why don't you tell us what's on your mind?" Dr. Anderson returned his attention to Tommy, who just sighed heavily. "You can tell us….I assure you, whatever you're thinking, someone here has thought it before."

"Yeah, right," Tommy muttered, lowering his eyes to the floor. He was supposed to be in studio with Mouthlike in two weeks, but instead he was in a mental hospital. Not to mention, he was pretty positive at least Adam and Isaac weren't talking to him. How could they understand that…?

"You think you're so special, right?" Brian sneered at Tommy. "You're probably some rich spoiled kid, blew through school, no wait," he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Probably didn't go to school, you look like some sort of punk. And you've got that girly thing to your voice, like Kate does…"

"Asshole," Kate snapped. "I _am_ a fucking girl."

"You still sang too much through puberty, I hear it," Brian shot back.

Dr. Anderson looked firmly at Brian. "I am the only one qualified to do psychoanalysis, Brian, please leave it to me."

"I'm just saying," Brian looked at Tommy, his face solemn. "Whatever you're going through? It ain't so special. So get over it."

Tommy just looked blankly back at Brian, not really caring about whatever he had to say. He couldn't understand. No way.

"What Brian is saying, although in a rather mean spirited fashion, is that a lot of people in your situation have this illness, you shouldn't feel like you're the only one." The doctor smiled at Tommy. "Really."

Tommy raised an eyebrow doubtfully, and tried to remember if the doctor had been told that he was a musician. He thought so…. "Sure."

Brian stood up, waving his arm in the air. "Our time's up, doc."

Dr. Anderson checked his watch, and sighed heavily. "Thank you, Brian, for always being so diligent with the clock," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," he chuckled as the group quickly got up to leave, reaching out for Tommy. "Tommy, one moment?"

Tommy frowned, but remained in his seat, watching as the last person shuffled out of the room. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted you to know, nobody here is going to know, or care, about who you are." Dr. Anderson said firmly, smiling slightly at Tommy's disbelief. "Why would they care?"

"What?" Tommy bit his lip and stared back at the doctor. People always seemed to care…it always changed everything…

"You're here to get better, correct?"

Tommy nodded.

"Do you really care about anyone else right now?" Dr. Anderson asked him, chuckling softly when Tommy nodded again. "You only care about yourself, right?"

"Yeah. I'm really fucking selfish, I know," Tommy rolled his eyes. "Your point?"

"It's not selfish, Tommy, you're here for yourself, and yourself alone. You're supposed to only care about yourself. My point is…well…would you care if, say, Tom Hanks was in the next room?"

Tommy shrugged. At the moment, he didn't care about much of anything that didn't directly impact him and his life.

"There you go," the doctor smiled wryly. "Nobody else cares either, Tommy. You're all in the exact same position here."

Tommy's expression changed as the doctor's words sunk in. "Oh…but…" None of them were famous…

"Kate…you didn't recognize her, did you?" Dr. Anderson asked lightly. "Or Brian?"

Tommy's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "No…"

The doctor chuckled, and smiled. "Don't worry, Tommy, you're not the only celebrity to come in here, and you won't be the last. Nobody cares. Nobody has time to care. All they can think about is themselves, and that's the whole reason you're here." He stood up, and gestured for Tommy to do the same. "I'll see you tomorrow, get a good night's sleep."

Tommy walked slowly back to his room, thinking about what the doctor had said. Nobody cares….they were all in the exact same position. But…were they really?

As he crawled under the covers, preparing for a long night of staring at the ceiling, Tommy could only come to one conclusion.

He was the only one who had to be in studio in two weeks.

And goddammit, no matter what happened to him over the next 48 hours, he was going to be there, and he was going to be fully functional for it.

****************************************

***********************  
  
"Go away," Tommy rolled over in the bed and pulled the sheets over his head. "Mom, it's still early," he mumbled, before sitting up like a bolt in bed. "Mom?" His eyes shot open, and he stared at the woman in his room.  
  
"No, hon, my name's Catherine, I'm a nurse here," the woman, whose voice did sound suspiciously like his mother's, smiled at him. "Breakfast, time to get up."  
  
"I'm not hungry," he replied, and lay back down.  
  
"That wasn't a request." Catherine said, looking sternly at Tommy. "Time to get up. Breakfast."  
  
Tommy sat back up and rubbed his eyes, "I have to go to breakfast?"  
  
"Yup. So up," she yanked the sheets away from him, smirking when Tommy snatched them back in horror. "One word of advice," she snickered, as she turned to leave. "You're in a hospital. Best to sleep with your undies on, eh?"  
  
Tommy's face was tomato red as he made his way into the bathroom, quickly taking a shower and brushing his teeth. He tried as best he could to dry himself off with the little dinky towels provided, but still ended up dripping water as he got dressed. He made his way out of his room, frowning as his clothes stuck to his wet body.  
  
"Morning, Tommy," Brian slapped him on the back as he came up behind him, startling him. "Sleep well?"  
  
"No."  
  
Tommy walked faster, but Brian kept up with him. "Friendly, aren't you?"  
  
"What the fuck do you want?" Tommy glared at him. "You already told me what you thought about me."  
  
"I was trying to help!" Brian protested. "Doesn't it help, knowing you're so obvious?"  
  
"Obvious what?"  
  
"Obviously spoiled?" Brian offered.  
  
"Brian being a shit again?" Kate asked as she walked by, wrinkling her nose at him.  
  
"Wait up," Tommy saw his chance, and caught up with Kate, following her into the cafeteria. "So, um, what's edible here?"  
  
"The coffee," she suggested, grabbing two trays and handing him one. "If you put a ton of milk and sugar in it."  
  
Tommy accepted the tray and looked at the offerings behind the plastic, and stared blankly at the woman holding a large metal spoon. "They really expect us to eat this?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes," Kate grabbed two plates full of watery eggs and handed one to Tommy. "Here."  
  
Tommy followed her to a table and sat down. He grabbed his fork and stared at his eggs, feeling tears come to his eyes. So this was what his life had come to? Watery eggs in a hospital cafeteria with a bunch of other crazy people.  
  
"Hey," Kate reached out and grabbed his hand. "Don't like Brian get to you. He was pre-med, wanted to be a shrink before he flunked out. He loves trying to psychobabble people, that's all he's doing."  
  
"I'm not upset about Brian," Tommy pulled his hand away, feeling uncomfortable from the contact. He took a sip of his coffee, and found himself actively fighting tears from the awful taste. "I shouldn't be here…"  
  
"None of us should be here…" Kate said wistfully, taking a deep sip of her coffee. "We all have better things to do."  
  
"Yeah, but…" Tommy sighed. Just two days ago he was drinking gourmet coffee in a fancy hotel room. He didn't belong here.  
  
"But what?" Kate looked at him doubtfully. "Brian's right, you know, there is something about you…you do think you're better than we are, don't you?"  
  
"What?" Tommy's eyes narrowed and he stared back at her. Not better, just…he was a musician. God that sounded so selfish, but dammit, it was true, he didn't belong _here_! Musicians were supposed to be eccentric, right?  
  
"We all have the god complex, at least for a little while," Kate smiled wryly, and took another gulp of her coffee. "We can do anything when we're manic, can't we? Money, power, fame, you name it, we got it. But it's all fake, don't you see that?"  
  
Tommy felt his heart jump at the use of the word 'fake'…where had he heard it before?  
Someone…Tempest…she'd told him he would realize how fake everything was. "What do you mean by fake?"  
  
"Artificial." Kate shrugged. "Like, I was up there on stage, singing, and I know I was amazing. Everyone loved me, I rocked, whatever…of course they loved me, I had a smile on my face that would light up New York City, my eyes were shining, my skin was probably glowing…I was manic. And you know? I was miserable too." She paused and looked at Tommy, handing him a napkin when she saw tears running down his face. "Nobody should be miserable at a time like that. Nobody should be soaring as high as I was either. It's not real. You know it's doesn't feel real while it's happening, and it just drives you nuts…we're here, so we can bring it all back down to a normal level."  
  
Tommy wiped at the tears on his cheeks, before making a face. "I guess."  
  
"Are you crying because you're all depressy, or because you're thinking about something?" Kate asked him, her eyes full of concern.  
  
Tommy shrugged. "I dunno."  
  
"Think about it, it's what the docs are gonna want to know," she pointed to Dr. Anderson, who was sitting at a table a short distance away, watching them carefully. "They always manage to catch us crying, can't ever hide it too well."  
  
"I'm just…." He smiled wryly, and looked at her. "Feeling sorry for myself."  
  
"Nothing wrong with that," Kate stood up and grabbed her tray. "I like to go take a run before morning session, so I'll see you later?"  
  
Tommy smiled and nodded, watching as she walked away. He was feeling sorry for himself, that was why he felt so upset. Well, feeling sorry for himself didn't do any good, did it. Then he'd just stop feeling that, start doing something a bit more productive. And so…he did.  
  
*********************************************************  
  
"I hear you had a difficult time during group last night?" Dr. Levine started the session by getting right to the point.  
  
Tommy's eyes filled with tears and he glared at the doctor. "You put me in here with a bunch of crazy people, and think it won't have any effect on me? They're nuts! They're driving me nuts!"  
  
"They're no more nuts than you are," Dr. Levine said softly. "They're the same as you."  
  
"The same as me." Tommy snorted. "Brian's insane, that much is obvious…"  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
Tommy rolled his eyes. He didn't know, just…something… "And Kate, whatever her deal is…I don't want to know."  
  
Dr. Levine smiled wryly, "you and Kate would probably get along very well, if you gave her a chance. She grew up in the spotlight."  
  
"Doing what? I've never seen her," Tommy challenged. If she was so famous, how come he hadn't recognized her?  
  
"Broadway stars rarely get name or face recognition," Dr. Levine mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Unless you're Neil Patrick Harris or Idina Menzel or someone. Kate's been starring on Broadway since she was 7 years old. While she may not be familiar to you, I assure you, Neil and Idina would recognize Kate."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"One of the remarkable things about bipolars is that they are generally extraordinary people."  
  
"What do you mean?" Tommy stared at the doctor, confused by his comment.  
  
Dr. Levine shrugged lightly. "Kate thinks it is because of the manic magnetism, other people believe it is the lack of emotional boundaries that most bipolars feel, but whatever the reason," he stopped and smiled at Tommy. "I've never met a bipolar truck driver."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Bipolars. You're musicians, dancers, actors, politicians, writers, executives, doctors, lawyers….top of your profession. Or were… Always achieving amazing highs and lows in some way or another in life as well as in their mood swings. Do you see my point?"  
  
Tommy bit his lip and frowned. "No."  
  
Dr. Levine sighed heavily, and leveled his gaze at Tommy. "Kate, Brian, everyone in group, they all have a lot to lose if they don't get better, as much as you do, if not more, no matter what you might think. Talking to them about what you're going through could do a world of good…you don't need to go through this alone."  
  
"I have friends!" Tommy argued, "I don't need crazy people in some hospital."  
  
"I'm glad you mentioned them." Dr. Levine looked at Tommy as he asked, "Adam would like to visit you today."  
  
Tommy felt his heart freeze in his chest, and he stared back at the doctor. "Adam doesn't hate me?"  
  
"Why would Adam hate you? I think he's a little worried that you are mad at him…you were when we brought you in here yesterday."  
  
"Mad at Adam?"  
  
"Very."  
  
Tommy pursed his lips, considering the doctor's words. Had he really been that… "Oh shit, yeah, I was. But, I'm not now, I mean, yeah, it sucks being in here, but…"  
  
"Your mother, she was something of an emotional wreck, scared you were dead, someone had to take charge. Adam put you in here for your own good. "  
  
"So you keep telling me."  
  
"You haven't managed to hurt yourself over the past 24 hours, have you?"  
  
"No…."  
  
"So being in here is doing some good, then?"  
  
"There's nothing _to_ do here, what am I gonna do, eat the soap while I take shower?" Tommy rolled his eyes. "I still say being in here will make me crazier than I was before I got here."  
  
"Don't joke about eating the soap, it's been done, and while it may give you a stomach ache, I'm afraid it won't kill you," the doctor deadpanned, laughing at Tommy's horrified expression.  
"Haven't you seen the cafeteria food? Which looks better? Soap or slop…?"  
  
"Very funny," Tommy was unable to resist a small smile, before looking at the doctor. "Just Adam? My mom doesn't want to see me?"  
  
Dr. Levine frowned slightly, and sighed. "Your mother is having a difficult time coming to terms with your behavior as of late…she's not quite sure how she would react if she saw you right now."  
  
"What do you mean?" Tommy's eyebrows knotted as he stared back at the doctor. "How would she react?" He hadn't done anything to her, what the hell…  
  
"When you left to go to that hotel, your mother was on her way to your house, do you remember?" He said softly.  
  
Tommy's eyes widened in horror when he realized what his mother must have seen. "She saw my house…"  
  
"Yes." Dr. Levine nodded. "She was also with Adam when he found you at the hotel; they were making phone calls from your house, apparently…"  
  
"She was staying at my house?" His voice fell to a whisper, as he realized what he must have put his mother through.  
  
"She was worried that you were dead, Tommy, the way you ran out…" Dr. Levine's face was consoling. "She didn't want to leave your house; she thought you would come home at some point."  
  
Tommy's body crumpled into his chair, and he covered his face with his hands as he started to cry. "I didn't even think about, oh god…I didn't mean to…"  
  
"Can you talk me through it, Tommy?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You were on the phone with your mother, she told you she was coming over. Talk to me about after you hung up, then," Dr. Levine prompted him.  
  
Tommy bit his lip, his brow furrowing as he thought. "It's weird," he said softly, stopping quickly to accept the tissues the doctor offered him and wipe at the tears on his cheeks. "Remembering those two days, it's like remembering a dream…"  
  
"It was only two days ago, Tommy," the doctor reminded him.  
  
Tommy's breath caught in his throat as he fought another sob. "What have I done…it feels like so long ago….”  
  
“It can be hard to relive the past but it is what is necessary for healing, Tommy, what went through your mind when you got off the phone with your mother?"  
  
"I had to get out of there."  
  
"Out of your house?"  
  
Tommy nodded. "I couldn't see her, not when I was like that…"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
Tommy stopped and stared at the floor in front of him, searching for the right words. "High. Miserable. Scared. Just…not ready to face reality."  
  
"It sounds like you were overwhelmed with everything going on and decided to deal with that emotion by running away from it."  
  
He blew his nose loudly, sniffling as he started to cry again. "I just forgot about her….my own mother…I didn't think about her at all, shit, she was in my house?"  
  
"She loves you, Tommy, as you said, you're not alone."  
  
"Wait." Tommy stopped crying and stared at the doctor. "You're agreeing I'm not alone, so…do I get to get out of here?"  
  
The doctor chuckled softly and shook his head. "Nice try, but not quite, Tommy."  
  
"Damn." Tommy smiled meekly at the doctor. "Had to try."  
  
"Tommy, to get back to those two days, what you were doing then, you were manic. You have to learn to identify when you get like that, learn when you can't trust yourself."  
  
Tommy blinked, and stared at the doctor. "Can't trust myself?"  
  
"When you're manic, Tommy, you're not thinking clearly. You cannot be trusted to make rational decisions for yourself."  
  
"But…" Tommy started, but the doctor interrupted him.  
  
"That fact is not up for argument. With medication, hopefully you will stop going manic entirely, for the rest of your life. However, until then, you must learn to question your own judgment."  
  
Tommy felt like his heart was beating a mile a minute, as he tried to ingest what the doctor had said. "Question my own judgment."  
  
Dr. Levine smiled, and nodded. "Think twice, three, four times about things before doing them. For major decisions, ask someone else for their opinion."  
  
Tommy stared back at the doctor, "I'm not a fucking kid."  
  
"No, you're an adult with the judgment of a kid, and that makes you dangerous when you're manic," the doctor replied. "Children do not have the resources, or the ability to do as much damage as adults. It's a large reason why most bipolars do not get diagnosed until they are in their 20's or 30's, it takes them that long to accumulate enough, to lose enough to have a doctor properly identify mania."  
  
"Lucky me, I got to blow it all young," Tommy said sarcastically.  
  
Dr. Levine smiled wryly. "You are lucky, Tommy, wouldn't you rather learn about this now, instead of living with it for years untreated? It's never going away.”  
  
"Never?"  
  
"You will need medication for the rest of your life, Tommy, but as long as you take your medication, we can control this."  
  
Tommy sighed, and started to pull at the tissue in his hands. "I'll take my medication…"  
  
"Good." Dr. Levine smiled at Tommy. "And we're done for today. I think we've made some definite progress."  
  
"We have?" Tommy said doubtfully, looking at the doctor. He felt somewhat better, but….  
  
The doctor stood up, and gestured for Tommy to do the same. "Yes, we have. Will you give some serious thought to spending a week here? I think it would do you a world of good. And think about it, you wanted to escape reality. This is your escape…one week, to concentrate on nothing but yourself. Think about all of those things we just talked about."  
  
Tommy looked back at the doctor as he stood up, considering his words. He shook his head, annoyed with himself for even considering the option, "No, I can't…"  
  
"Tommy, promise me you'll think about it." Dr. Levine said firmly. "It's a good practice to get into, thinking things over. Make sure your decision not to stay is based on solid, factual reasons, not an emotional response. Think about it…why are you saying no?"  
  
"I don't want to stay here, isn't that obvious?"  
  
"Think about the reasons why you should stay here, and the reasons why you should leave."  
  
"Lots of reasons," Tommy shrugged.  
  
"Good, then tell me them tomorrow," Dr. Levine smiled. "Think about it tonight."  
  
*************************************************  
  
Tommy was trying his best to do as the doctor had suggested, and fully think over his reasons for wanting to leave the hospital. The only problem was the logical answer wasn't the answer he wanted… "I'm not a Vulcan, fuck logic," he grumbled, lying back on his bed and staring at the ceiling.  
  
"Aah yeah," Brian pushed open the door to the room and breezed in, catching Tommy's comment. "Are you thinking logically? Are you acting rationally? Get used to those questions…."  
  
"What do you want?" Tommy sat up, looking at him with a bored expression. "I'm doing something."  
  
"Oh, yeah, I can see how busy you are," Brian sat down on the chair next to the bed and crossed his legs. "I was coming here in a peace offering, seeing how we're gonna be roommates and all, I figured we should start off on the right foot."  
  
"This is your idea of the right foot?" Tommy couldn't help but ask.  
  
Brian smiled wryly, "Look, I'm sorry. I know I get a little overbearing at times. It's just the way I am…and Kate, you gotta admit, she's such an easy target."  
  
"Easy target?"  
  
"Has she told you her story yet?"  
  
"No…" Tommy shrugged.  
  
"She went right off the deep end."  
  
"So did I," Tommy couldn't help but defend Kate. She'd been the only person who'd actually been nice to him in this place.  
  
Brian snorted. "So did we all. But she did it, colossal scale. Get her to tell you what she did sometime, beyond her chest, which I must thank her plastic surgeon for, she went right over the top," Brian waggled his eyebrows at Tommy, "Shame she hasn't gone manic in here, she's cute, I wouldn't mind getting a piece of her…"  
  
"In here?" Tommy stared back at the other man in disgust. Sex was the furthest thing from his mind right now…  
  
"You've only been in here a day. Give it a few more, trust me, you'll be eyeing Kate too." Brian told him with a laugh. He looked at Tommy carefully, confused by the sad expression on his face. "What, Kate not your type? You're not gay, are you? Not that I'm homophobic or anything, but if we're gonna be roommates…"  
  
"I'm not gay," Tommy said softly. "And I don't even know if I'm staying here yet."  
  
"You're staying, you've gone from flat out no to I don't know. That means they're working on you."  
  
"Thanks," Tommy said sarcastically. So he was that easily manipulated, was he?  
  
"So what got you down? Dunno about you, but thinking about Kate in the sack normally gets me smiling." Brian grinned at Tommy, waiting for a happy reaction. "Talk, man."  
  
Tommy sighed, and looked at Brian. "Just remembering things, that's all."  
  
"Remembering what?"  
  
"The last girl I was with," Tommy frowned, and bit his lip. No, actually she wasn't the _last_ girl he had been with… "Well, the last one I was with before I took off…"  
  
"What happened?" Brian said softly, looking at Tommy.  
  
"I made her cry…" Tommy's voice was a whisper as he stared at the floor in front of him, the memories rushing in his ears as they flooded back. "I threatened her, I scared her. I think I forced her…"  
  
"You? Scared a girl?" Brian's eyes widened and he was unable to resist a small smile. "You don't look so fearsome now, Tommy."  
  
"I said things to her…" Tommy's words trailed off, and he shook his head. "She probably hates me."  
  
"Want the shrink bit?"  
  
Tommy looked up at Brian, and sighed. "Kate said you flunked out…"  
  
"I still took Psych 101, do you want it or not?" Brian snapped, continuing when Tommy nodded. "Whatever you did to her, part of healing is going to be coming to terms with it, and even more important, apologizing to her for it."  
  
"Apologizing?"  
  
"Saying you're sorry?" Brian smiled at Tommy's reaction. "You said you made her cry. I'd say you owe her an apology. What we got, man, it's something that's gonna effect us, but it's not an excuse for doing bad things. You still gotta turn around and apologize."  
  
"Like you apologized to me." Tommy smiled lightly.  
  
"Yeah. Like that." Brian met Tommy's eyes before standing up, uncomfortable with the sudden closeness. "I'll see you in group, alright dude?"  
  
"Yeah," Tommy nodded.  
  
Brian turned to leave, his eyes lighting up when a man filled the doorway, blocking his path. "And who have we here?" He looked the man up and down, his nose wrinkling as he tried to read him. "Male model, maybe? I'd say gay lover, but the boy's already denied that…"  
  
"Close friend," Adam waved Brian out of the room with a firm glare, closing the door behind him before turning to Tommy. "Tommy, how are you?"  
  
Tommy smiled weakly at Adam. "It's weird, my head's feeling more and more clear, but it's like…the more clear my head gets, the more stuff I realize I have to do."  
  
"What do you mean?" Adam sat down in the chair recently vacated by Brian, looking closely at Tommy, "You look better than you did, at least…"  
  
"I'm sorry, Adam, for everything I put you through," Tommy said quickly, staring at Adam. "I need to tell Isaac that, and my mom, and Monte, and Ravi, and…"  
  
"Ok, Tommy, you'll get your chance," Adam smiled at him, glad to see Tommy somewhat animated again. "So you're alright in here?"  
  
He shrugged, "It's not as bad as I thought it was, I guess? I have a lot to do, maybe being stuck in here for a week and being forced to do it isn't such a bad thing."  
  
"Isaac has been talking to me about you guys going to studio…"  
  
"I'll be ready for that," Tommy said firmly."I'll spend my week in here, get my head on straight, I'll be totally cool."  
  
"I know, Tommy, that's not what we've been talking about. They were thinking it might be cool to get away to concentrate on writing for your new album. I was thinking…maybe I could arrange for you guys to spend some time in the Bahamas, maybe?"  
  
"Really?" Tommy's eyes lit up. "When?"  
  
"A few weeks. Sound good to you? A few weeks in the sun?" Adam smiled at Tommy's happy reaction. Isaac knew his best friend so well, the trip to the Bahamas had been his idea. He knew Tommy would be worried about returning to normal life.  
  
"Sounds great to me….but…you really don’t have to.”  
  
“I _want_ to.”  
  
 Tommy frowned when Nick stuck his head in the door of the room. "What?"  
  
"Visiting hours over, buddy, you got group soon."  
  
"Already?" Tommy whined in an instinctive reaction, before laughing at Nick's face. "What?"  
  
"I've seen it all, don't even try it." Nick stood in the doorway, looking at Adam. "You can come back tomorrow."  
  
"Can you bring Isaac?" Tommy asked as Adam got up, following him to the door.  
  
"Sure, Tommy, I bet he'd like to come," Adam grabbed Tommy in a tight hug, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm proud of you, Tommy, it can't be easy in here, you're dealing with it really well."  
  
"I'm gonna get better, I promise," Tommy said confidently. "I have to. For you, Isaac, Monte, Ravi, my mom…"  
  
"You gotta do this for yourself, Tommy," Adam said cautiously, looking at the younger man firmly. "Just for you."  
  
"Yeah," Tommy replied. "I'll be cool by the time we go to the Bahamas. Promise." As long as he was good by the time they went to the Bahamas. All would be fine then. He waved at Adam as he left, thinking to himself that a week wouldn't be so bad. He could spend a week nearly anywhere, right?  
  
**************************************************  
  
"And how was everyone's day today?" Dr. Anderson said cheerily, looking around the room. "Tori? I understand you had a visitor?"  
  
"The bitch came to visit." She said with a shrug, digging in her pockets for her cigarettes. "Why she comes is beyond me…"  
  
"What did she say?"  
  
"How I ruined her life, I spent all of her money, how she would never stop paying for my mistakes." Tori's lower lip trembled as she pulled a cigarette out of the pack and stuck it in her mouth. "Bitch."  
  
"You did ruin her life and spend all her money," Brian said softly.  
  
"Don't you ever forget anything?" Tori's hands shook as she lit her cigarette, and she glared at him. "Just because you have some freak memory doesn't mean you have to use it like this."  
  
"Brian?" Dr. Anderson looked at Brian firmly, waiting for him to say something.  
Brian stared back at the doctor, before turning to Tori, a resigned expression on his face. "Sorry."  
  
"Tori?" Dr. Anderson turned to her and waited.  
  
"Apology accepted," she blew a stream of smoke at Brian coolly. "But you're still a prick."  
  
The two glared back at each other as silence fell over the group, Brian successfully making everyone feel uncomfortable.  
  
Finally, Tommy asked a question. "OK, I have to ask, nobody's told me. How long does it take before you stop cycling? I mean, I know the doctor said it takes 6 weeks for the medication to start working, but…" he stopped talking at the snickers and giggles in the room around him. "What?"  
  
Dr. Anderson smiled wryly at Tommy. "Everyone who's here is here because they still are, Tommy. Medication, it helps to control the cycles. But it's not the kind of thing where you flip a switch and it stops."  
  
"I was good for two years," Kate said with a sigh. "Then I went a bit off the handle."  
  
"And aren't we glad you did," Brian's eyes widened as he stared at Kate's chest.  
  
Kate crossed her arms over her chest as her face flushed red. "Goddammit, Brian, you are such a fucking asshole."  
  
"You don't just stop cycling." Brian turned to Tommy with a sneer. "You're clear for years sometimes, then, bang, you either realize you've been cycling all along and didn't realize it, or you start up again…or maybe you really are clear for years. You never know."  
  
"Then how do you live?" The words were out of Tommy's mouth before he knew it, and a new silence fell over the group as everyone considered his question. "Not knowing when you're going to be one way or another…how?"  
  
"You just do." Brian finally said softly, looking at Tommy. "Take it one day at a time."  
  
"As long as you're still alive at night when you get into bed, you made it through the day," Kate agreed. "Every day is something to be proud of. You survived that day."  
  
"I don't want to have to survive my life…" Tommy whispered, staring at the floor. He just wanted to be able to live…  
  
"You're surviving the illness, Tommy," Dr. Anderson reminded him. "You have got to start thinking of yourself as someone with a serious illness, not just a condition you are working your way through."  
  
"A terminal illness." Brian said, followed by a wail as he sung gloomy music. "Can't you hear the violins…?"  
  
"You said being bipolar's not an excuse, right?" Tommy stared at Brian.  
  
"Yeah…"  
  
"So you really are just an annoying person, and I'm sure you wouldn't care if I stuck my fist in your face?" Tommy's voice took on a menacing tone, as he glared at the other man.  
  
"Are you actually threatening me?" Brian's voice was disbelieving as he looked back at Tommy. "Gonna punch me?"  
  
"All I'm saying is…keep it up and maybe I will," Tommy shrugged and tried to put on the toughest face he could conjure, staring back at him. "Being an asshole shouldn't be an excuse either, should it?"  
  
Kate clapped, and cheered. "Thank you, Tommy, I've been telling Brian that since the day I got here."  
  
"Now, physical violence isn't the answer to anything, Tommy, but you do have a point. Brian needs to stop taking his hostile feelings out on other people." Dr. Anderson interrupted.  
  
"How is that any different than what Tommy just did?" Brian stood up, glaring angrily at the doctor. "He threatens to hit me, he told me this afternoon he, what, you were dancing around telling me you raped some girl, weren't you?" He turned to look at Tommy, sneering at his horrified reaction. "You did! You raped a girl…and I'm the one taking my hostile feelings out on other people? Your time's up for the night, doc," he waved at the room and left without another word, not needing to see the damage his words had done.  
  
Kate was staring at Tommy, her eyes wide open. "Tommy? Did you…"  
  
Tommy was breathing heavily, and he felt like the room was spinning around him. "No…not…not really…" he bent over his knees, covering his face with his hands.”I don't know…"  
  
"I think that's it for today," Dr. Anderson said quickly, waving everyone out of the room, once again making Tommy stay. "Tommy, you need to discuss this with Dr. Levine, not Brian."  
  
"I didn't tell him anything," Tommy's eyes narrowed as he stared at the doctor. "I didn't rape anyone! Shit, now everyone thinks I did…" Why did he suddenly care what everyone thought, anyway?  
  
"You clearly did something, and you need to deal with it. But not with the other patients." Dr. Anderson smiled lightly. "When you're talking to the other patients, that's your time to relax, think about things other than therapy. Ok?"  
  
"Yeah…"  
  
"I think everyone's going to go watch television now, why don't you join them? Try to relax."  
  
Relax, in a hospital? "Yeah, right."  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Tommy walked into the room and sat down in a chair, frowning at the sitcom everyone was watching on the television. "You people don't really like this shit, do you?"

"You're in a hospital, smartass, take what you get," Brian sneered at him. "Spoiled little pretty boy, wants his satellite dish?"

"Fuck off," Tommy shot back, glaring at him. "I just don't like this show."

"Learn to like it," Kate suggested in a helpful tone. "It's one of the only things that comes in clear."

Tommy frowned and stared up at the screen, his foot tapping a rhythm on the floor. He watched for a few seconds before sighing heavily and turned away to look around the room. "Isn't there anything else to do? This sucks…"

"Let's see, you could…stick your head up your butt?" Brian offered with a smirk. "It's certainly big enough."

Tommy stood up and quickly crossed the distance to Brian, staring down at him with his fists clenched. "Look, I am not in the mood for your crap right now."

The corner of Brian's mouth turned up in a grin as he stood up to square off with Tommy. "Really? And what kind of mood are you in?"

Tommy's eyes narrowed to slits as he stared at him, "None of your fucking business."

"Someone's cycling," Brian whistled, laughing when Tommy glared at him angrily. "What? Aren't you?"

"I gotta get out of here," Tommy said quickly, turning and making his way back to his room.

Once there, he opened up the closet and threw his clothes on the bed, searching for a bag to stuff them in. " _Shit_!" he shouted when he realized he couldn't find one, sitting down on the bed and staring at the floor. "What am I gonna do…." He whispered to himself, his eyes darting around the room quickly. "Ooh," he spied the garbage can in the corner, and walked over to it.

"This works," he grinned, dumping the contents of the garbage can onto the floor. He yanked out the liner bag and returned to the bed, stuffing his things inside.

A soft voice interrupted his 'packing.' "What are you doing?" Kate was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, looking at him with a curious expression.

"Getting out of here," Tommy replied breathlessly, tying the garbage bag shut. He held it up to Kate and smiled, "See, I got my stuff."

Kate raised an eyebrow as she looked at the bag. "You just threw your clothes in a bag full of garbage."

"No, I put the garbage on the floor," Tommy pointed to the pile of trash on the floor. "Clean bag."

"Right, it magically cleaned itself when you dumped the garbage out," Kate said sarcastically, shaking her head. "Tommy, calm down."

"I'm calm!!" He shouted at her, the bag in his hand waving around as he spoke. "Jesus, I am so sick of everyone telling me how to feel, how to act. Why can't I just be who I am?"

"This is not who you are, Tommy!" Kate shouted back. "Stop and look at yourself! Look at what you're doing!"

"I'm getting out of here, is what I'm doing," Tommy said firmly. "I'm going to the Bahamas with my band."

"Really."

"Really. We're gonna write music and stuff."

Kate was unable to suppress a small snicker. "You're going to write music. Like this."

"I can write music!" Tommy told her, his eyes widening angrily when she just giggled again. "What's so fucking funny?"

"Look at you, Tommy, you can't do anything right now."

Tommy slung the garbage bag over his shoulder and walked to her, waiting for her to move. "Get out of the doorway, I'm leaving."

"Tommy, please, I can promise you, we've all been in your position. But you can't leave."

"Watch me," Tommy challenged. He was Tommy Joe Ratliff. Who the hell was going to stop him?

"Tommy…."

"You really think if I offer that nurse a thousand bucks to look the other way, she won't let me leave?"

"You really think she gives a shit how much money you offer her?" Kate shot back. "Brian tried to give her a million last time he was in here."

Tommy took a step back, before looking at Kate with disbelief. "Bullshit."

She sighed heavily, and nodded. "Yup."

"Two million then. And I can really give it to her." Tommy shrugged.

"Brian could have really given her a million, his family's loaded," Kate refused to move from the doorway. "All you're going to do is get yourself written up for trying to escape, and that will only hurt you in the long run. Don't you want to get out of here?"

"Isn't that what I'm trying to do?"

"Not NOW, Tommy, not like this. For good. Even if you did get out of here now, where would you go?" Kate asked him, looking into his eyes. "How would you explain it to your friends?"

"My friends would understand."

"Didn't they put you in here in the first place?"

Tommy's face fell, and his shoulders hunched as he realized she was right. "Oh."

"Tommy," Kate put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back into the room. "You're manic, sit down, ok?"

"NO!" Tommy jerked away from her, shaking his head angrily. "Why does everything I feel or do have to be related to this goddamn illness? Can't I just be restless? Can't I just want to go home? I don't want to be here!"

"You're not going to be here forever."

"Forget forever, I don't want to be here _now_ ," he argued, throwing the garbage bag onto the floor with an angry cry. "I want…" he shook his head to clear it, and smacked his head with his hand.”Fuck."

"Want to go for a walk?" Kate suggested. "I used to spend a lot of time walking around the halls here; it helps to get rid of some of the extra energy."

"A walk?" Tommy said doubtfully, his eyes dropping to the bag on the floor. "A walk out the door, maybe…"

"You can't leave," she said firmly. "Come on," she took his hand and tugged on it, "I'll show you my favorite thinking spot."

"I c-c-can't…" he stammered, before shutting his mouth with a frown. He was stuttering again, dammit.

Kate smiled wryly, and looked at him with a sympathetic expression. "I know…you know you want to do something, but you just can't figure out what it is, right?"

Tommy nodded, unwilling to try speaking again.

"Come on," she grinned at him, and lead him out the door.

****************************************

  
  
An hour later, Tommy and Kate were sitting on the roof of the building, looking up at the stars.  
"This is nice," he said flatly.  
  
"It is," Kate agreed, ignoring his frown. "Just don't let anyone know you're up here, only me and Brian know about it, and they would freak if they knew we could get up."  
  
"Why?" Tommy looked at her questioningly. "They don't want us to have any peace at all, is that it? Keep us away from the one somewhat calming place around here?"  
  
Kate rolled her eyes and shook her head. "The whole world isn't out to get you, Tommy. They don't want us up here, because they don't want us jumping off."  
  
Tommy looked at her in surprise, before replying, "Oh. I don't want to jump off, though…"  
  
"Not now, you don't," she smiled weakly. "I have…."  
  
"Wanted to jump off of here?" He asked, his expression changing to one of concern. "You seem so normal, though, compared to Brian, and Tori." He sighed, and added in a bashful tone, "Compared to me…"  
  
She snorted, "Tommy, appearances can be deceiving, especially for us bipolars. You should know that well enough by now; however, you're acting now is in no way an indicator of how you're going to be acting an hour from now, if you're a rapid cycler."  
  
"I guess…."  
  
"I spent many a night up here crying my eyes out, trying to convince myself not to jump."  
  
"I wanted to slit my wrists once…." Tommy said softly, staring off into space. "Same thing, I had to convince myself not to."  
  
"I didn't really want to kill myself…"  
  
"Neither did I."  
  
"I just wanted it all to stop."  
  
Tommy turned to stare at her, his eyes wide. "Exactly."  
  
"See, Tommy, you're not alone," Kate smiled at him. "We've all been there, we're all there."  
  
"So it really doesn't ever stop."  
  
"It stops when you die," she said solemnly. "But, so does everything else."  
  
"The medication, though, I thought it's gonna stop me from going like this."  
  
"To an extent, yeah, but you've heard us talking about it, it's not perfect, and it doesn't always work."  
  
Tommy rubbed at his eyes, frowning when he saw his hand trembling. "My eyes feel funny."  
  
"Funny?"  
  
"Dry." He made a face, and shook his head. "Forget it, not important."  
  
"Ok…."  
  
Tommy stared out at the stars in silence for a while, his hands twisting around in his lap. Finally, he broke the silence with a question. "So why bother?"  
  
"What?" Kate turned to look at him with a curious expression.  
  
"If you know that your entire life is going to be like this, ups and downs, why bother?" He turned his head away from her as he felt tears fill his eyes, he didn't want her to see him cry…  
  
"Nobody has a perfect life, Tommy," Kate said softly.  
  
"Not everyone has to doubt their own mind."  
  
"True," she agreed, before reaching out and running her hand through his hair, pulling his head around to face her. "But, Tommy, with the bad stuff, comes a lot of good. Nobody, _nobody_ can understand human emotion the way we do."  
  
"What good does that do? We're slaves to our emotions, aren't we?" Tommy looked into Kate's eyes, for the first time understanding what it was Brian saw in her. She really was pretty cute…and her hand felt really good in his hair… "I want to go play music, get my life back, and instead I'm stuck here, learning how to fight my own mind."  
  
"But you'll be so much better for it," Kate insisted. "Haven't you ever heard the saying that a depressed songwriter is a good songwriter, and a happy one is a bad one? When your emotions come across in your music…that's when you're truly getting somewhere."  
  
"So I have to go through this to be a better songwriter?" He rolled his eyes. "I don't think it's worth it."  
  
"I know you don't now," Kate dropped her hand to her lap and stared at it for a moment, before picking at her nails. "But trust me, you will…"  
  
"What about you?" Tommy asked, looking at her closely. "What's your story?"  
  
She made a face, "You heard Brian…"  
  
"Brian's an asshole," Tommy interrupted her. "I wanted to hear it from you."  
  
Kate took a deep breath, before clasping her hands together, stilling their movement. "I made a very scary discovery about myself, I guess you could say."  
  
"What?"  
  
She smiled weakly. "Acting…becoming a part. I was a little too good at it."  
  
Tommy's eyes narrowed slightly, "What do you mean?"  
  
"First I had to play the part of the Broadway star. So I starved myself, made myself into what my mother wanted me to be, so I could get the part. Spent my entire life on stage, living someone else's life. Which was great, as long as my characters were happy, I was happy. Until I got that role of a lifetime…ya know the kind of role people dream of? One you can really sink your teeth into. Not a blond bombshell, but a _real_ acting part." She sighed heavily. "I was just too good."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I was playing a suicidal character." She turned away from him, staring up at the stars. "I couldn't leave her at the theatre at night…she came home with me."  
  
"You ended up suicidal?"  
  
"Sort of," she shrugged. "I had been off-kilter for a while, you know this doesn't just pop up out of nowhere. But yeah, doing that part pushed me over the edge."  
  
"So what happened?"  
  
Kate bit her lip and turned to look at Tommy, seeking some answer in his eyes before replying. "You won't laugh at me?"  
  
Tommy smiled weakly, "Whatever you did, I bet I did worse."  
  
She laughed lightly, and shook her head. "Oh, I don't know about that…"  
  
"Try me."  
  
"I was nominated for a Tony," she started, running a hand through her hair and pushing it away from her face. "It was supposed to be the biggest night of my life, I was flying sky high. Except I didn't have a date."  
  
"So what'd you do?"  
  
"I decided that James Franco was going to be my date, except I didn't look right to be his date. So the week before the Tony's," she stops to laugh at herself, "The _week_ before, god, was I insane. Anyway, I had my implants put in. Forget the fact that it was major surgery, and I was dropping off of the face of the planet to have it done. Nobody knew where I was, I paid cash for the operation, checked in under a fake name. While I was recovering from surgery, I called every agent, producer, whatever you name it, I called them. Told them James was mine, that he had to call me, because I needed a date."  
  
Tommy's eyes widened and he caught his reaction before asking, "What happened?"  
  
"What do you think?" She wiped at her eyes before continuing. "I'd missed two weeks of performances, convinced every agent and producer in the city I was insane….I was fired."  
  
He gasped softly, and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, that's awful."  
  
Kate shrugged, "I guess. I blew my shot at a Tony, and possibly my chance at any kind of career in theatre at all. But hey, it was fun while it lasted…"  
  
"So you've been here since?"  
  
She shook her head, "No, I got out of here for a while, but that didn't last long. I'd convinced myself I wasn't cycling when I was….ended up back in here after doing more stupid shit."  
  
"Wow," Tommy wasn't sure of what else to say. She seemed so…so…normal.  
  
"Yeah, wow," she snorted. "Kate fucks up again…"  
  
Tommy laughed, "No, that's normally Tommy who fucks up again."  
  
"See, I told you that you weren't alone," she grinned at him. "Now do you believe me?"  
  
Tommy nodded, "Thanks for talking to me tonight, I feel a lot better now…"  
  
"You just have to work your way through it when you get like that," Kate said softly. "The best thing about this is it never lasts….no matter what mood you're in, good, bad, whatever. It'll go away. Next time you get all upset, just remember that."  
  
Tommy smiled at her. "I will."  
  
"Now, ready to go to bed? The security guys check the roof at some point during the night, and I don't want us to get caught."  
  
He stood up and stretched, staring up at the stars with a smile. "Yeah, now I can go to bed."  
  
*************************************************  
  
The loud music woke Tommy up, and he reluctantly got out of bed, determined to find the source of the music and stop it. He made his way down the hallway, letting his ears lead him until he found himself standing outside Kate and Tori's room. He knocked on the door, but was not at all surprised that they didn't answer, "probably can't hear me over that goddamn music," he grumbled. He pushed open the door, his eyes widening when he saw Kate alone in the room, hunched over on her bed in tears. "Kate?" He said hesitantly, unsure now whether or not he should interrupt.  
  
"Oh, hey," she sat up in surprise, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "Do you think Eddie Vedder was ever in a hospital like this? Or knew someone in one?"  
  
Tommy shrugged and walked into the room, sitting down next to her on the bed. "I have no idea."  
  
"This song…it's like he has to know…" Kate fiddled with the CD player on the nightstand, and looked at Tommy. "Listen to the words, ok?"  
  
He just nodded, and looked at the CD player as it began to play the song that had awakened him from his sleep.  
  
_She scratches a letter into a wall made of stone._  
Maybe someday another child won't feel as alone as she does.  
It's been two years and counting since they put her in this place  
She's been diagnosed by some stupid fuck, and mommy agrees.  
  
Kate started to cry again as the song continued, and Tommy hesitantly put an arm around her, trying to give her some sort of comfort. She curled up into him, burying her head in his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably.  
  
_Why go home…why go home…who home…_  
She seems to be stronger but what they want her to be is weak  
She could play pretend, she could join the game, boy.  
She could be another clone  
Why go home…why go on…why go home…  
What you taught me put me here.  
Don't come visit Mother, screw me!  
Why go home…*  
  
Tommy wasn't at all surprised to find tears in his own eyes as the song ended, and he quickly wiped them away before returning his attention to Kate, who was still sniffling into his chest.  
  
"Kate?"  
  
She slowly moved away from him, grabbing a tissue off of the nightstand and wiping her eyes.  
"Sorry," she said softly, raising a pair of red eyes to look at him. "I should have known better than to listen to that, but sometimes, a good cry really helps, you know?"  
  
Tommy didn't reply, he didn't feel like one was needed, he just kept his eyes steady on Kate, a concerned expression on his face.  
  
"I feel like that at times," she continued, her lower lip trembling as she fought tears again. "They're taking away who I am, almost, by controlling the mood swings. Going manic, that used to be called eccentric, you know? Now people are going through history books, looking at famous people who had behavioral quirks, saying oh, that could have been someone with bipolar. Abraham fucking Lincoln, they say, was bipolar. And even when I was diagnosed, when they were looking over family history, my doctor said that if I had any grandparents or great-grandparents who were weird, eccentric, whatever, that maybe _they_ were bipolar and just not diagnosed. What if they were just weird? What if I'm just hyper sometimes? What if I just get sad? Can't I just be like that?"  
  
Tommy bit his own lip hard, as her words sunk in. What about him…wasn't that true? Couldn't he just be hyper?  
  
"Times like this, I wonder, you know? If we could live in a shell, who the fuck would care if we cycled?"  
  
"That's not true, though, it's not safe…" Tommy tried to argue, that was what the doctor told him, right? He would harm himself if he wasn't on his medication.  
  
"For who?" Kate interrupted him, her eyes blazing angrily. " _Why can’t they just let me be_!" She pulled up the long sleeve shirt, and showed Tommy the scars on her arms. "See these? They're not from suicide attempts. They're from IV's, when doctors have decided I went overboard, and tried to calm me down. I pulled them out…god," she shivered. "The doctor that invented Thorazine should be shot."  
  
Tommy's mouth dropped open at the sight, but he still didn't say a word, and just watched her as she continued to rant.  
  
"But they give us Thorazine, make us into fucking zombies, because it gets to other people when we cycle. My mother says she can't deal with me when I'm manic. She's humiliated by the things I've done. All about _her_. But what about me?" Kate moved further away from Tommy on the bed, as tears once again began to spill from her eyes. She looked at Tommy, and said in a soft, almost pitiful voice, "I just want to be normal."  
  
"Me too," he replied, in an equally sad voice, fighting his own tears. "We never will be, though, huh."  
  
"No." Kate agreed. "In this world, we never will be."  
  
  
  
* Pearl Jam - Why Go  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. The Story of a Son - Chapter 8

A few hours later, Tommy and Kate were sitting on the couch, watching the one channel that came in clearly on the television. Tommy's arm was tightly wrapped around Kate's shoulders, ever since she'd broken down that morning, he'd felt a strange need to protect her from whatever demons she felt were out there to get her.

"Well, aren't we cozy," Brian walked into the room and sat down in a chair across from them, smirking at the couple.

"Fuck off," Kate said, moving away from Tommy slightly and shooting Brian a glare.

"Just sayin'," Brian threw his hands up into the air in exasperation, and then snickered. "Tommy knows what I'm talking about."

Tommy quickly shook his head in denial. "I never know what you mean, Brian, and I don't want to."

"Oh yeah you do," Brian retorted, his hands gesturing towards his own chest.

"Christ, Brian, is that all you can think about?" Kate rolled her eyes. "Does it really amaze you that some people in this world think about things other than sex?"

"Yes." He replied, still grinning at Tommy.

Tommy looked at Kate apologetically; sure his face was turning bright red. "I'm sorry; you know I'm not thinking…"

"..I know." She interrupted him with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry about it."

"Anyway, that's not why I'm here," Brian leaned forward in the chair and gave the two of them a conspiratorial glance. "Where's your roomie, Kate?"

Kate's brow furrowed as she considered the question, and her head slowly turned from Tommy to Brian. "What?"

"Tori," Brian said the name slowly, drawing it out, enjoying watching Kate's face pale as he asked. "What's she been up to, babe?"

"Nothing…" She said slowly, but her face conveyed otherwise.

"She been stashing pills?"

"No, she wouldn't…"

"What?" Tommy looked from Kate to Brian, his eyes wide. "What is he talking about?"

"Jesus, Brian, you're just trying to get me upset, aren't you?" Kate shrugged off Tommy's arm and stood up, her eyes growing bright. "I'm going back to my room."

"Not taking loverboy?" Brian asked, grinning from ear to ear.

"Go to hell," Kate called over her shoulder as she walked away.

"What were you talking about?" Tommy tried again, completely clueless as to the meaning of the conversation that had just taken place.

Brian sighed heavily, and shrugged. "I imagine you'll find out what I mean soon enough, loverboy, it doesn't much matter now."

"Nothing is going on with me and Kate," Tommy said firmly, looking Brian directly in the eye to emphasize his truthfulness.

Brian smirked, and waved a finger at Tommy. "If nothing was going on, you wouldn't be as red as a tomato right now."

Tommy's mouth opened, and then closed as he tried to think of an appropriate response. He was turning red because of what Brian had said about Kate, not because he was thinking of her like that, although, well. "Dammit," he cursed, shaking his head angrily. He hadn't been thinking of her like that, anyway, but he was a guy, she was a cute girl…

"Problem?"

"What's this about Tori?" Tommy asked again, desperately needing a change in subject. He felt like his head was spinning. Kate had been so upset, he'd never seen her like that, and what she'd said had made so much sense. And now Brian was making him think things he just didn't need to think and….it was just too much.

Brian shrugged again. "Nothing."

"It's not nothing, if you set Kate off like that."

"As I'm sure you've discovered, it doesn't take much to set Kate off," Brian said smoothly. "You _have_ discovered that, haven't you?"

Tommy couldn't argue with him on that, she'd been crying over a song that morning. Although, he'd found himself close to tears over the song as well, the lyrics just hit, hard. "But…"

"Visiting hours are soon, you'd better go clean yourself up," he suddenly decided to be helpful, pointing to the wet spot on Tommy's shirt. "She used you as a tissue, huh."

Tommy looked down at his shirt, and touched the wet spot gingerly. "I guess."

"So go clean up, before your friends think you drooled on yourself. You _do_ have friends, right?"

Tommy stood up to leave, determined not to let Brian upset him. "Yes, of course I do."

Brian's last words hurt Tommy more than even he could have imagined, especially given the morning he'd had, and Kate's rantings. "If they're your friends, why don't you ask why they put you in here?"

****************************************

***************************  
  
Tommy jumped up at the knock on his door, opening it with a smile. "Hey!"  
  
"Tommy!" Isaac grabbed Tommy in a tight hug, grinning from ear to ear. "It's good to see you."  
  
"It's only been a few days," Tommy shrugged, waving Isaac and Adam into the room.  
  
"Since you've been in here, but it's been a while since I've seen you," Isaac reminded Tommy sadly. "You wouldn't let me…"  
  
Tommy's face fell, and he nodded slowly. "I'm sorry about that."  
  
Adam sat down on a chair, holding a black bag in his lap. "How are you feeling, Tommy?"  
  
Tommy shrugged. "Ok. I want to get out of here."  
  
"Soon, you will," Isaac said with a smile. "Adam told you about the Bahamas?"  
  
"Oh yeah, I can't wait." Tommy bounced happily in his seat, smiling again. "I keep thinking about it, the ocean, the beach, it'll be awesome."  
  
"You have real work to do there," Adam reminded them both with a serious expression.  
  
"Oh, relax, Adam, we'll work," Isaac rolled his eyes at Adam's concern, shooting Tommy a glance. "Think there's a place like this to cure someone of being too anal retentive?"  
  
As Tommy continued to make small talk with Isaac and Adam, he couldn't help but think about that question in the back of his mind. Isaac wanted to change Adam's anal retentiveness…why? Because it was annoying. To him…to Tommy too, but still. That was the way Adam was. Who were they to try to change him? Just like…. "Why are you doing this to me?" Tommy blurted out, interrupting Adam in mid sentence.  
  
"Doing what to you?" Adam asked slowly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Tommy.  
  
"Making me into…" Tommy frowned and bit his lip, searching for the right words. "I don't know, something I'm not. Why can't I just be who I am?"  
  
"You'll always be who you are, Tommy," Adam said softly.  
  
"Tommy, what do you mean?" Isaac leaned forward in his chair, looking at his best friend closely.  
  
"This isn't who I am!" Tommy stood up and paced the room as his argument began to grow in his mind. "I'm not like them, I'm not crazy. I'm just a little hyper sometimes. So what?"  
  
"Tommy, you're more than a little hyper sometimes…" Adam started, but Tommy silenced him with a glare. "You are!"  
  
"Right, because I can't sit still in your goddamn meetings you get pissed at me. Well, maybe I shouldn't be in those meetings!" Tommy shouted, whirling around and glaring at Adam. "Musicians are weird, aren't they? All of them…except us. Why the hell do we have to be so normal, act so calm? Why can't I just be a little wilder than the rest?"  
  
"Tommy, you act…" Adam stopped in mid-sentence, shaking his head.  
  
"Finish the sentence, _Adam_ ," Tommy's eyes were bright as he stared at him, but his jaw was set in anger. "Finish the fucking sentence," he insisted.  
  
"No, don't," Isaac tried to play peacemaker, but it did no good, as Tommy just turned on him.  
  
"And you, you're so upset because I didn't spend time with you?" Tommy frowned at Isaac's shocked expression. "Oh please, stop being so damn sensitive. Maybe I just didn't spend time with you because I wanted to be alone! What's so wrong with that?? I would have been ok to go to that gig."  
  
"Are you forgetting about what you did, Tommy?" Adam interrupted his tirade with a glare. "The people you hurt, your _mother_ …"  
  
"Who _cares_ about other people?" Tommy insisted, wiping quickly at a tear rolling down his face. He couldn't let them see him cry… "Why can't I just be me?"  
  
"You can't live in a vacuum, Tommy!"  
  
"I would have been fine to work, isn't that all that matters?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"We care about you, Tommy," Isaac said softly, his expression growing sadder with his every word. "Friendship, brotherhood, it goes two ways, you know?"  
  
"I don't need anyone," Tommy glared at Isaac, smirking when he jerked back as if he'd been hit. "I'm fine on my own. It's you who put me in here Adam, if you didn't exist, I'd be fine."  
  
"If I didn't exist, you'd still be living in a fucking dumpster," Adam shot back before he could stop himself. He jumped up, staring at Tommy in horror. "Oh god, Tommy, I didn't mean…."  
  
Tommy's eyes were brimming with tears as he stared at Adam. "That's all I've ever been to you, isn't it. Trailer trash."  
  
"He didn't mean it, Tommy…" Isaac said softly, but Tommy waved him off.  
  
"Have you ever known Adam to say anything he doesn't mean?" Tommy said, frowning as he felt his hands begin to shake. "So that's why I'm here."  
  
"What?" Isaac stared at Tommy in confusion, not following his line of thinking.  
  
"Reeducate the trailer trash. I get it." Tommy took a shaky breath, and then pointed towards the door. "Both of you. Get out."  
  
"Tommy, please…" Adam tried to grab the smaller man's shoulder, but Tommy brushed him off. "I didn't mean it."  
  
"I think you did, Adam," Tommy shot back. "After all, why else would you put me in here?"  
  
"Because you're sick," Isaac insisted. "Tommy, your house, it was a wreck…"  
  
"To you! It was fine to me!" Tommy shouted, his fists clenching in anger. "Now get the fuck out of here! You put me in here, now leave me here!"  
  
"Tommy…"  
  
" _Get out_!"  
  
"Fine." Adam gestured to the bag he'd left sitting on the floor. "That's your laptop. I thought you might like it."  
  
"Whatever." Tommy shrugged like he didn't care, and watched as the two men left his room. Once they were out, he slammed the door behind them, leaning up against the back as the tears he'd been fighting finally spilled over. He sat down on the floor and buried his head in his hands, sobbing much as Kate had been that morning, the song still ringing in his ears.  
  
_What you taught me put me here…  
Don't come visit Mother dear…_  
  
**********************************************************  
  
  
Tommy sat on the floor crying for what felt like hours, feeling like his life had totally spiraled out of control. Adam had said, god…another loud cry left Tommy's throat as he replayed the scene in his mind. "Maybe I would be better off living out of a van," he said to himself angrily, wiping at his wet cheeks. "At least then I wouldn't have any responsibilities, nobody to yell at me, nobody to put me in a _fucking place like this_!"  
  
A knock sounded on the door, and Tommy jumped up in horror, hoping whoever was on the other side hadn't heard what he'd just said. He grabbed a tissue and wiped off his face before opening the door, not wanting the whole ward to know he'd been feeling so sorry for himself.  
"Tommy?" Kate was on the other side, a concerned expression on her face. "You didn't come out after your friends visited…."  
  
Tommy just shook his head and walked back into his room, sitting down on the bed. He bit his bottom lip, hard, trying not to start crying again at the use of that word. Friends. As Brian had said...what kind of friends were they…  
  
"What happened?" She sat down next to him and pulled her legs up under her, her eyes not leaving his face. As much as he'd tried to hide the signs of what he'd been doing, the body didn't recover that quickly, his face was still red, as were his eyes.  
  
"You said it, right?" Tommy stared down at his lap, refusing to meet her eyes. "If they didn't exist, I could just be, without worrying about cycling or anything."  
  
Kate's eyes widened and she grabbed his hands, shaking her head quickly. "Tommy, what I said this morning, I wasn't thinking clearly….don't listen to me when I get like that."  
  
"But you were right!" Tommy pulled his hands away to wipe at his eyes again. They stung from so much crying, dammit. "Adam put me in here, because he thought I was going nuts."  
  
She sighed, "Tommy, you were…."  
  
He jerked away from her as if he'd been hit, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "But, you said…"  
  
"I was feeling sorry for myself, that's all," Kate said softly. "People have to survive, you know? I couldn't have held a job the way I was," she snorted and rolled her eyes. "The way I _am_. And that's a part of life. You can't take off to cry for hours just because. You have to be able to get out of the bed in the morning, and you have to be able to be functional, all day long."  
  
Tommy frowned, trying to wrap his mind around yet another view on the whole situation. This was turning out to be one hell of a day. "But…."  
  
"But, that song is great for feeling sorry for yourself," Kate bent down until her head was in Tommy's line of sight and made a goofy face at him, trying to make him smile. "You can't live like that."  
  
"Then why bother?" Tommy turned his face away from hers, staring at the wall. "Adam reminded me of where I came from. Maybe that's where I belong."  
  
"Where?"  
  
He shook his head, not wanting to tell Kate about the way he'd grown up. "Not important."  
  
"It is, if you're feeling like this because of it."  
  
"Just, if I was still there, if he'd never hired me for his band," he shrugged. "I wouldn't have been able to afford this place. So, wouldn't I be better off, in a way?"  
  
Kate smiled wryly, and shook her head. "No, Tommy, you'd be bankrupt, and probably in jail for some reason or another. Or in a state institution, which is a hell of a lot worse than this."  
  
Tommy's head shot around to face her, his eyes wide. "What?"  
  
"How many laws did you break, when you were running around manic? Illegal drugs, you do realize most people end up in jail when they ask random people for cocaine."  
  
He stared at her for a moment, before lowering his head. "You're saying I got special treatment because I have money?"  
  
"You did, that, and the fact that you're sort of a celebrity." She said it matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders. "You're better off here than in prison, don't you dare try to argue that with me."  
  
"But…"  
  
"And what you did to that girl," Kate continued, still looking at Tommy carefully. "Don't you think she would have had you prosecuted, if you were just a normal guy?"  
  
"Prosecuted for what?"  
  
She sighed heavily, and rolled her eyes. "Selective memory is a nice side benefit of cycling, isn't it? You're the one who told Brian about it."  
  
Tommy's mouth opened and closed, as he realized what she was referring to. "Oh."  
  
"Oh, yeah. You are better off here, don't argue that with me."  
  
"But you said, this morning…"  
  
"Damnit Tommy, I was in a depression this morning, my thinking was all screwed up. You shouldn't try to follow me." Kate frowned, and ran a hand through his hair, trying to get him to look at her. "I'm sorry I sent your head into such a tailspin."  
  
He shrugged, "'It's ok."  
  
"No, it's not," she said softly. "Here I've been trying to act like the wise one to you, and meanwhile, I'm cycling just as bad as you are."  
  
Tommy looked up at her and shrugged, "You're in here too. I guess we're all in here for a reason."  
  
Kate nodded, "Yeah. Nobody's here without one hell of a good reason."  
  
"Loverboy," Brian interrupted their talk, pushing open the door and smirking at the two sitting on the bed. "And Kate. Hello, baby."  
  
"What do you want?" Tommy snapped at him, frowning at the way Brian's face lit up when he caught sight of Tommy.  
  
"Someone's had a rough morning, huh," Brian said, looking at Tommy pointedly. "They told me to let you know that you're moving into my room today. So, pack, loverboy."  
  
Tommy's eyes widened and he shook his head, "No I can't…"  
  
"Yes, you are." He replied evenly. "This may be a cushy joint, but nobody gets a single after their first 48 hours. Trust me, I don't much like having a roomie either, but…." He shrugged. "Rules are rules." And with that, he left, closing the door behind him.  
  
"Dammit." Tommy cursed, frowning at the floor. "I don't want to share a room with him."  
  
"As he said, unfortunately, rules are rules," Kate said, standing up and looking around the room. "Brian's had a single since his old roommate left, lucky bastard, but he's known all along that the next new admission would end up in his room. It doesn't look like you have too much stuff in here, want some help packing?"  
  
Tommy sniffled one last time, and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Now that he was finally off the suicide watch and decided to stay, it was time for him to concentrate on something else. Something that didn't involve Adam, or Isaac, or music. Packing. He could do that. "Sure, thanks."  
  
***************************************************  
  
"I won't be so bad, I promise," Brian was bouncing on his bed, watching Tommy unpack his scarce things into the drawers provided. "I just like to piss off Kate."  
  
"You piss me off too," Tommy reminded him. "Everyone, in fact."  
  
Brian shrugged, "Ok, but there's so little entertainment around here. A guy's gotta find some way to keep himself busy."  
  
"Right." Tommy said flatly. He stared at the drawers of clothes, and chuckled softly. So neatly folded and arranged. So not like him…  
  
Kate came charging into the room, and ran up to Brian, glaring at him angrily. "So where's Tori?"  
  
"I told you, I don't know," he told her, still bouncing up and down on the bed.  
  
"I haven't seen her since I woke up this morning," Kate said, her head bobbing up and down, following Brian. "You obviously know something, or else you wouldn't have asked me."  
  
"All I know is, she's missing," he said, standing up on the bed so he could jump even more. "This is fun, ya know?"  
  
"Jesus, stop it, you're gonna break the bed," Kate rolled her eyes at Brian's antics, and sat down across the room on Tommy's bed. "She's missing?"  
  
"Yeah. As in, they can't find her."  
  
"I thought you said there was no getting out?" Tommy looked at Kate accusingly. If he could have just escaped…  
  
"There's always one way out, loverboy," Brian smirked, a moment before his head hit the ceiling. "Ow, fuck."  
  
"Idiot," Tommy glared at Brian, before turning back to Kate. "So what's he talking about?"  
  
Kate's lower lip was trembling as she looked at Tommy. "If you're dead, you're out."  
  
"Suicide?"  
  
"And I'm the idiot?" Brian jumped off the bed, and spun around the room, laughing as his momentum carried him right into a wall. "You are so fucking slow, man."  
  
"But they took everything away from us?" Tommy didn't see how anyone could commit suicide in this place, unless they jumped off the roof?  
  
"As they say, if there's a will, there's a way," Careening away from the wall, Brian tripped over one of Tommy's boots and fell onto the floor, cursing when he landed hard. "Move these things, would you? Jesus," he picked up the shoe and stared at it, before his face scrunched up in disgust. "God, and they stink," he threw the shoe at Tommy's head, laughing when he barely had time to bat it away before it hit him. "Slow reflexes too."  
  
"I swear, why do you always have to cycle up?" Kate glared at Brian. "Just once, I want to see you depressed. It'd be a hell of a lot more fun than dealing with you when you're like this."  
  
"Blow me, baby," Brian shot back, grinning when Kate stuck her tongue out at him. "Oh, don't put that out unless you intend to use it."  
  
"Tori wouldn't have killed herself," Kate returned to the subject at hand. "She's getting out in three days."  
  
"Right." Brian nodded, and threw the other boot at Tommy. "Perfect timing."  
  
"Asshole, she's doing fine…"  
  
"How?" Tommy interrupted her, his eyes going back and forth between Kate and Brian. "I want to know how."  
  
"She was stashing pills, man," Brian shrugged. "So, depending on what she was hanging on to, it's just as simple as an overdose."  
  
"How do you stash pills?"  
  
Brian started laughing, and shook his head, "You are so naïve."  
  
Tommy's eyes flared, and he glared at Brian. "I am not."  
  
"Yes you are, loverboy. Lived this little sheltered life…"  
  
"You don't know shit about me, or what my life has been like," Tommy said angrily. "So shut the fuck up."  
  
Brian sighed heavily, and rolled his eyes, "When the nurses give you your pills, you hide them under your tongue. So when they check your mouth, they think you took them."  
  
"But you can't OD on a lot of the stuff we're on," Kate insisted. "Lithium, you can go toxic, but I don't think you can really OD."  
  
"Maybe she wasn't stashing lithium?" Brian suggested. "Something else, then. Or she found another way. Or you _can_ OD on Lithium. Who knows."  
  
"How?" Kate asked Brian this time, rolling her eyes when he just shrugged. "It's not that easy."  
  
Tommy looked around the room, his eyes locking on the toilet bowl. "Drown yourself in the toilet?"  
  
Kate and Brian both started laughing, and it was Brian who answered, "Can't be done, loverboy."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Kate smiled at him wryly, "Because your head only stays in there until you pass out. Then you fall backwards, and start breathing again. It takes longer than that to kill yourself."  
  
"Someone always tries it though, either there, or in the sink." Brian told him with a grin. "They're always so upset that it didn't work."  
  
Tommy stared at Brian in amazement. How long had he been here, anyway? He made a mental note to ask Kate that later. He talked like he'd been here for years.  
  
Becky, their day nurse, stuck her head into the room, and looked at them with a frown. "Group's early today. Get in there in five minutes, ok?"  
  
"Why's group early?" Kate asked quickly, before the nurse had a chance to leave.  
  
She stepped into the room, her eyes carefully scanning each of them, before she replied quietly. "They found Tori."  
  
"Where did they find Tori?" Kate's voice was trembling as she asked the question, and Tommy grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight in support. "Tell us."  
  
"In the linen closet," Becky said softly, her face pale and drawn. This wasn't supposed to happen to patients, and certainly not on her watch. "She's dead. I'm sorry."  
  
"No," Kate started to cry, and Tommy wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. "How, she couldn't…"  
  
"I told you!" Brian said gleefully, jumping up off the floor and dancing around the room. "Tori's free!"  
  
"Brian, calm down," Becky said harshly, before turning to Kate and Tommy. "She had apparently been keeping a supply of aspirin. She took those."  
  
"That's a lot of aspirin," Tommy remarked, his eyes widening as he felt Kate shudder in his arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"  
  
"No, you're right," Kate sighed, and pulled away from him, wiping her eyes. "She had to have been planning this for a while. She gets migraines, that's why they give her aspirin."  
  
"Or she convinced them she got migraines," Brian suggested.  
  
"Group in five minutes," Becky reminded them before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.  
  
"I can't believe it," Kate said softly, shaking her head. "She's really gone."  
  
"Hey, look at it this way. You got a single." Brian said with a smirk.  
  
"That's not funny," Tommy glared at Brian. "How can you just joke like that? Someone's dead!"  
  
"It happens, loverboy," Brian shrugged. "Even in here, it happens. It's what happens when you have something like this. Haven't you ever seen the statistics on how many of us who get this now live past the age of 30? It's not an easy number to find, since they don't much like us knowing about it. It's like the number of how many of us abuse drugs. That number is over half. Have you heard the number of how many of us live? How many of us survive this crap? I think it's called the mortality rate. It's not very high."  
  
"Don't, Brian," Kate whispered, as she started to cry again, her hands covering her face. "Please, don't…"  
  
"Less than half." Brian's voice became solemn as he stopped dancing around the room to look at him evenly. "Less than half of us live past the age of 30, and I think the real number is somewhere around 30%."  
  
Tommy's eyes widened, as he looked at Brian in horror. "What?"  
  
"We all kill ourselves, Tommy boy." Brian's expression grew sad, as he continued on his tirade. "And why? Because who the hell wants to live like this?"  
  
"Stop it, Brian!" Kate's voice cracked as she shouted at him, tears spilling from her eyes. "Shut the hell up!"  
  
" _Why?_ Because someone finally escaped this hell we call a life? Because Tori knew full well that getting out of here doesn't mean _shit?_ Just because you're released from here doesn't mean you're cured. It's not like cancer, where some test can tell you you're in remission. We always have this. It _never_ goes away," Brian turned away from Tommy and Kate, wiping at his own eyes, which had filled with tears. "Why the fuck do we put up with it?"  
  
"Because it's all we have!" Kate screamed at him. "Goddamn you, Tori was my friend!" She got up and ran out of the room without another word, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"What about you, loverboy? Gonna make a dramatic exit too?" Brian turned on Tommy, frowning when he just looked at him sadly. "What?"  
  
Tommy sighed, "I'm just going to group." He stood up and walked to the door, turning around to look at Brian evenly. "I feel so sorry for you," he said softly, shaking his head.  
  
"Sorry for me?" Brian stared back at him, stunned. "Why the fuck…"  
  
"Because you spend so much time feeling sorry for yourself, you will never get better," Tommy replied. "Me and Kate, we're going to get out of here. You…you're just going to end up like Tori. Just another statistic. And that's a waste." And with that, he left the room, and walked down the hall to group.  
  
***************************************************  
  
Dr. Anderson looked around at the group sadly, his eyes solemn. "How does Tori's suicide make you all feel?"  
  
Tommy shot a look at Kate, who was hunched over in her chair. She'd been crying non-stop since the session had begun, and showed no signs of stopping.  
  
"Oh, we're all thrilled," Brian said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "What do you think?"  
  
"Why don't you tell me, Brian?" The doctor asked. "How do you feel?"  
  
Brian shrugged. "Just makes me wonder who's next."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"It's what happens, right?" He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Bipolars kill themselves. Darwinism at its best. We don't live long enough to reproduce."  
  
"Jesus, Brian," Kate raised a pair of red eyes to stare at him in amazement. "You're saying that like it's a good thing."  
  
"Tori was a freak," he shrugged nonchalantly. "One less freak in the world. Isn't that a good thing?"  
  
"You're a freak!"  
  
"Now, Brian," Dr. Anderson interrupted Kate, shaking his head slowly. “Being a freak is not a bad thing. Everyone is unique in their own way."  
  
"Sugar quote it if you will doc," he replied evenly. "All of us, we're just in here waiting until our time comes."  
  
"I'm not killing myself," a girl across the room replied harshly, glaring at Brian. "I'm getting better, and I'm getting out of here."  
  
"Me too," Tommy jumped in. "Not all of us feel like our lives are ruined because we have this thing, you know." The words left his mouth before he fully comprehended the meaning, and he sat back in his chair, shaking his head at what he'd just said. It was true; his life wasn't ruined because he was bipolar. Of course, he'd been thinking just the opposite not so long ago…  
  
"You'll figure it out soon enough," Brian shot back.  
  
"Brian, you're here to get better, aren't you?" Dr. Anderson asked him. "Otherwise, why waste your time?"  
  
"I'm here because my fucking parents put me here."  
  
"You're over 18," the doctor reminded him.  
  
"I can't really just leave," Brian insisted.  
  
"Sure you can, as you're well aware. Not in the middle of the night, but if you really wanted to, you could get out." Dr. Anderson replied, calmly. "But you don't want to, do you?"  
  
Brian stared at the doctor, then bowed his head, shaking it slowly. "No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It's safe in here," he whispered.  
  
"Exactly. You're safe to spend the time to concentrate on yourself, and get better."  
  
"What about Tori?" Kate burst out, staring at the doctor angrily. "If she was so much better, why did she kill herself?"  
  
"Tori was having some issues about leaving here," he replied, sighing heavily. "It's something we've discussed before, Kate, how to face the real world again after a prolonged stay in here."  
  
"I'm more than willing to face the real world now," The girl who had spoken before grinned at the doctor. "Wanna let me go?"  
  
"No, Kelly, you're not ready to go, and you're well aware of that."  
  
"Fine…"  
  
"What about me?" Tommy asked softly, looking at the doctor. "I'm voluntary now, right?"  
  
"You don't really think you belong out there yet, do you?" Dr. Anderson met Tommy's look, and smiled wryly when he didn't reply. "I thought not."  
  
"So Tori killed herself because she was scared to leave? That's bullshit," Brian rolled his eyes. "She did it because she was nuts, like the rest of us."  
  
"Being bipolar isn't a reason for suicide in and of itself, Brian," Dr. Anderson said evenly. "As much as you might like to think it may be, it is not."  
  
"We're defective." Brian said flatly, not noticing how Kate began to cry harder as he continued speaking. "Fucked up. Something's wrong up here," he smacked his head. "So we kill ourselves."  
  
"Are you thinking about killing yourself?" the doctor asked him.  
  
Brian shrugged. "Don't have the right tools."  
  
"Have you thought about how you would do it, if you could?"  
  
"Naw, not really," he frowned. "I'm not a wimp like Tori."  
  
"Have the rest of you?"  
  
Tommy shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and the doctor zoomed in on him. "Tommy?"  
  
He shrugged. "I guess. Not recently."  
  
"Have you thought about how?"  
  
"I had a razor…I thought it would hurt too much," Tommy was surprised by the tears that formed in his eyes, and looked away from the doctor in frustration. How much could one person cry in one day anyway?  
  
"Is that why you didn't?"  
  
"I was," he frowned, and bit his lip. He didn't want to say it, not in group like this.  
  
"Why didn't you, loverboy?" Brian sneered. "Didn't want to leave the girlfriend behind, huh?"  
  
"Fuck you," Tommy glared at him. "You know, since you're so positive we're all going to kill ourselves, why don't you do us all a favor and just take yourself out now. Spare us all from having to deal with you."  
  
"Now, Brian, Tommy, this is not productive," the doctor tried, but Brian stood up, glaring at Tommy angrily.  
  
"Look, roomie, suicide is not an answer, ok? Tori's a little fucking wimp, if she thought doing that was going to help anything. And just because I believe we're all gonna do it eventually, doesn't mean I have to do it NOW. I like being here. Who else would keep an eye on you and little Kate here, otherwise?" He snickered, and looked at the doctor evenly. "Are we done here? Clock says yes."  
  
The doctor looked at the clock in surprise, and then nodded slowly. "Yes, but each of you are going to have one on ones today, even if you're not scheduled for one. And we're having another group tonight."  
  
"Fine," And with that, Brian left the room, slamming the door behind him.  
  
"Kate?" Tommy walked across the circle to kneel down next to her chair, looking at her closely. "You ok?"  
  
Kate looked at Tommy dimly, shaking her head. "That's a pretty stupid question, what do you think?"  
  
"You know what I mean," Tommy tried, but she waved him off. "Talk to me?"  
  
"I think Kate and I should talk," Dr. Anderson walked over to them and smiled at Tommy. "Is that ok?"  
  
"I don't want to…" She argued weakly.  
  
"Not for long, I promise," the doctor insisted, taking Kate's hand and pulling her out of the chair. "Let's go talk."  
  
Tommy watched as the doctor led Kate away, wondering how this could be considered treatment. Was it group therapy, or group torture? He left the room and walked down the hall slowly, unsure of exactly where to go. The main room was too public, and his room, well, Brian would be there. He finally decided to escape to the roof, and a few minutes later, found himself staring out at the trees and grass in the distance.  
  
He wrapped his arms around his knees and hugged himself tight, taking deep, shaky, breaths, trying to calm the spinning in his mind. So much had happened today, in such a short period of time. And this was supposed to help him get better? Tori was dead. Even though he'd just met her a few days ago, it was still strange, realizing that he was never going to see her again. He frowned, and wondered what it was that had finally pushed her over the edge. Was it really the fear of getting out of here?  
  
"I can't wait," he said softly, his eyes staring to sting again. He wiped at them, not at all surprised to find moisture on his hands. At some point, he wondered, did the body just stop making tears? He'd have to look that up…  
  
He wanted to leave, he really did. But, as much as he argued it with Adam, with Isaac, he did know why he was in here. "Because I'm crazy," he whispered, pressing his palms into his hot eyes until the stinging was replaced by a dull throbbing pain. "But Brian's wrong…" And Tori had done the wrong thing. He ran a hand through his hair, growing more sure of his line of thought. Sure, he was crazy, or something resembling crazy, anyway….now. But he didn't always need to be, wasn't that why he was here? Maybe Brian would always be crazy, because he spent more time feeling sorry for himself than he did trying to get better. That was Brian.  
  
"But it's not fun being like this," Tommy whispered. "No matter what Brian says, this isn't fun." He opened his eyes and looking at the world beyond the hospital. He wanted to be out there, but not like this. Not when he didn't have control over his own mood, over his mind, this was awful. He wanted that back, and there was only one way to get it back. To get better. And Brian was wrong. He could get better. He would. He'd show him….  
  
Tommy stood up and smiled at himself, nodding his head firmly. Brian's statistics, if they were true, said that half of bipolars lived past the age of 30. And he decided, then and there, he was going to be one of _that_ statistic. He'd be one of the ones who lived. Not the other one.  
  
Feeling like he'd gotten a whole new grip on his life, on his mind, Tommy turned and made his way back inside. He'd made a decision, and one he was sure would affect the rest of his life. It was a decision most people his age probably didn't have to make, but, then again, he acknowledged with a small chuckle, he'd never been "most people."  
  
He was alive now, despite some pretty close calls in the past, and he fully intended to stay that way.  
  
One way or another, he had decided, Tommy Ratliff was going to survive.  
  
Because, as Kate had said, his life was all he had.  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
---


	9. Chapter 9

"Go to sleep," Tommy told Brian angrily, rolling over in bed and pulling the covers up over his head. It had been three days since Tori had killed herself, and he really felt like he had been making definite progress. His mood was still going up and down, but at least now he was aware of it when it happened, and really trying to think about what he was doing when he was that way. Unlike Brian, anyway…

"I'm not tired," Brian just turned the music on his box up louder, ignoring Tommy's loud shout in protest. "Fuck off."

"It's after midnight!" Tommy protested from beneath the blankets, as he buried his head under his pillow. 'Keep a regular sleep schedule,' wasn't that what the doctor had said? Nothing was more important than getting enough sleep, that in itself could make him cycle.

"I repeat," Brian said evenly. "Fuck off."

"Asshole," Tommy finally gave up his attempt to sleep, and got out of bed, glaring at Brian.

"I'm going to the lounge." Not wanting to take the time to find clothes, he pulled his blanket off the bed, and wrapped it around himself, deciding nobody would see him to know he was only wearing a pair of boxers. He made his way down the hall in his bare feet, sitting down on the couch and curling up. "Oh, this is comfortable," he said sarcastically, cursing Brian for driving him out of his own room. He'd just closed his eyes when he heard someone approaching, and he just squeezed them tight, not looking forward to seeing his roommate again.

" _What?_ " He shouted, before covering his head with his blanket.

A hand pulled the blanket away from his head, and he frowned as he felt it run through his hair, sending an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. "What the fuck," he cursed as he jumped up, his eyes widening when he saw who it was. "Kate," he said in surprise, his mouth dropping open when he saw what she was wearing. The white tank top was stretched tight across her chest, and his eyes dropped downward in an involuntary reaction, a soft gasp leaving his mouth when he saw that was ALL she was wearing.

"Problem?" She smiled at him, and walked close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Had a bad night?" She asked softly, pressing her body into his.

Tommy suddenly found himself incapable of speech, and he turned his head away as she ran her hand though his hair again. He could feel every inch of her body through the thin fabric separating them, and cursed himself for not putting clothes on before he'd left his room. "What are you doing?" He said in a voice he didn't recognize, as he felt his body reacting to her touch.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Kate cooed, grinning up at him, as her hands continued curling through his hair. Her hips began grinding against his in small circular movements, and he bit his lip, trying to fight the feelings she was sending racing through his body. "Tommy…"

"This isn't a good idea," he said, as he felt her pull his head around to face hers. He looked into her eyes, and felt strangely unsettled by the glassy look to them. "This isn't you."

 

"Oh, this is so me," she whispered, her hands leaving his hair and working their way down his bare back, tracing circles over his skin. "And I feel you," she smiled, grabbing his rear and pulling him closer. "Do you feel me?" She asked, as she wiggled her chest against his.

"Yes," Tommy's voice cracked as he felt her hands move around to the front of his boxers, and he stared at her. "Kate…" he started trembling as her hands began playing with the top of his underwear, one finger sliding under the waistband, "Don't…"

"Don't what?" Kate teased, a half smile on her face as she stared back at him. "Don't do this?" She asked, as her hand slid inside his underwear, cupping him and giving him a gentle squeeze. "Or…don't do this?" Her hand wrapped around his now firm length. "Or, maybe I shouldn't do this…." She grinned as her hand began moving up and down over him, and she smiled triumphantly when he moaned. "Seems to me that you like it, Tommy boy."

"No, we can't," he argued, his breath beginning to come in heavy gasps. A cry of pleasure left his throat when she began sucking on his nipple, and he grabbed her head in his hands, pulling it away from him. "Kate, stop it!" He told her firmly, unable to believe his own willpower.

"No." She smirked at him, her hand never stopping its movement inside his underwear. "You want me, Tommy, I know you do," she argued, shaking her head between his hands. When he refused to let go, she turned her head and kissed the palm of his hand, her tongue tracing over it. "I could make you feel so good, Tommy."

"God, I know you could," he groaned, fighting the urge to give in. "We can't," he whispered, his hips moving into her hand of their own accord, a familiar tightening beginning to spread throughout his body.

Kate responded by dropping to her knees and pulling down his boxers, taking him into her mouth before he knew what was going on. She sucked on him deeply, her hands grabbing him around his legs.

Tommy was unable to stop the moan that left his lips at her touch, and his hands tangled through her hair. "Kate," he gasped, panting with every breath. "This is wrong."

Kate paid him no mind, and continued, her tongue swirling over him, her lips running up and down his length.

"Stop, Kate, please," he choked, trying in vain to pull her head away from his groin, feeling as if his body was completely betraying him.

Kate just increased the speed of her movements, her hands kneading his rear, listening, and feeling, as he went over the edge. She kept her mouth wrapped tight around him until every drop was gone, before standing up, grinning at him.

Tommy stared at her in shock, unable to believe what she'd done. "Why did you do that?" He asked her in a soft voice, exhausted from his orgasm, and disgusted by what had just taken place.

Kate just took his hand and pulled on it gently, leading him down the hall to her room. Once inside, she ordered him to lie down on the bed.

Tommy did as told, figuring he could just curl up and get some sleep now, forget this had ever happened. He lay down on his back and looked up at her, his brown eyes narrowing suspiciously when she just grinned at him. God, how he was beginning to hate that grin…

"Take off your boxers," Kate gestured to the underwear wrapped around his ankles.

"Fine," he mumbled, doing as told, wondering what she had planned for him next. All he wanted to do was sleep…if he could only go back to his room.

Kate stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes trailing over his body, a smirk on her face. Her eyes stopped at his groin, and she licked her lips. "You're a big boy," she remarked, her hands on her hips.

Tommy just stared back at her, not knowing what to say in response to that. He frowned when he felt himself begin to react from her stare, and shifted his hips on the bed. Not again…

"There you go," Kate whispered, bending over and taking him in her hand again. "Come on, Tommy, let’s see you full size."

"Kate, come on, not again," he tried to pull her hand away, but she used her other hand to grab his. "What are you doing?"

"Having some fun," she laughed, an evil, cruel laugh, as her hand began roughly moving up and down the length of his shaft. "Tommy…."

"Dammit Kate, if you don't stop it, I'll…"

"You'll what," she interrupted him, quickly taking her hand away. She smirked when his hips moved up in an unconscious reaction, and laughed again. "You want me to do that Tommy, your body tells me so."

"No, I don't, this is wrong," Tommy whispered, shaking his head quickly. He was in a hospital, he was supposed to try to get better. And Kate, she wasn't acting like herself, something was wrong…maybe he wanted to be with her, at one point in time, but god, not like this…

"How are you going to stop me?" She asked him, once again taking him in her hand and pumping him. Her eyes widened when he moaned, and she chuckled, "You're not, are you?"

"What?" Tommy gasped, hating his own body for betraying him so completely.

"If you want me to stop, you're going to have to make me," she shrugged, and stepped away from the bed. "You're awful hard again; it'd be a shame for you to leave so," she looked at him and laughed, "unsatisfied."

"I…" Tommy didn't know for the life of him why he didn't just get up and leave. His body was tired, but he could easily have thrown her off, gotten away….but he didn't want to upset her. He didn't want to be doing this, either, though…

"That's for me," Kate touched a finger to the tip of his erect length, licking her own lips when it jumped in reaction.

"That's what you did," he replied, watching every movement she made like a hawk.

"You want me?"

"What?" Tommy asked her in amazement, staring in surprise when her face fell at his question.

"I said," Kate wrapped her hand around him and squeezed him tight, smirking when he groaned in pain. "Do you want me?"

"Yes," he answered her robotically, sighing with relief when she let go.

"Now?" She slowly pulled off her tank top, grinning when she saw his eyes drop to her chest. "You like?"

Tommy nodded, hating himself for it, but, ''yes." Of course he liked.

"Good," she crawled onto the bed and straddled him, slowly lowering herself down onto him.

Tommy couldn't stop his gasp of pleasure at the feeling of her surrounding him, and his hips unconsciously moved up into hers. "Kate," he whispered, staring up at her in amazement. He couldn't believe this was really happening…it had to be a dream.

Kate looked down at him with a strange smile on her face, and leaned over him, her hair brushing his chest. She kissed his shoulder, and licked a trail up to his ear. Once there, she whispered, "come for me, Tommy," as she moved her hips over him, squeezing him tight.

"I…" he groaned and shook his head, trying to stop the feelings soaring through him. He couldn't, not again, not like this.

"Come on, Tommy," she purred, her hips moving faster and harder over him, her hands running over his chest. "Such a big boy," she told him again, smirking when he began to gasp for breath. "There you go."

Tommy cried out as he felt himself lose control, his body shaking with pleasure as it reacted all on its own to Kate's. When he finally stilled, he looked up at her, reaching up and running a hand through her hair. "Kate," he whispered, stunned by what had just happened.

Kate moved her head out of reach when he tried to pull her down for a kiss, and she quickly got off of him, grabbing her shirt off of the floor and putting it back on. "You can go now," she said in a strange tone, pointing towards the door.

"What?" Tommy felt completely drained, and it took all of his strength to sit up in bed to look at her.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Don't be here when I get back," she said harshly, turning around and leaving the room.

Tommy's mouth dropped open in surprise, but he did as told, quickly locating his underwear on the floor and pulling it on. He left the room and returned to the lounge, curling up on the couch. "What the fuck just happened," he whispered to himself, shifting his hips uncomfortably at the memory of her. It had been so…wrong….nothing about that had felt right. And it wasn't a dream, as much as he wished it was, he could still feel the moisture on his body from her; still remember the feeling of her touch. He'd really….god…

As he fell asleep, one strange thought entered his mind, and it would dominate his dreams all night long.

Never, not once, had she kissed him on the lips.

 

****************************************

******************  
  
"Wake up, loverboy."  
  
Tommy snuggled deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket over his head. "Shuddup, Adam," he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "Not time to get up yet."  
  
"Do I sound like Adam Lambert to you?"  
  
Tommy's heart stopped beating for a moment, and he sat up, his eyes wide. He found himself looking up at Brian, as an uncomfortable feeling crept over him. "What did you say?" He asked, dreading the answer.  
  
"I said, do I sound like Adam Lambert to you," Brian repeated. "Whataya Want From Me," he mocked. "You really think I didn't know who you were? I figured it out a while ago; I _knew_ you sounded like you sang too much through puberty. I was right, too."  
  
"I'd hoped you didn't know," Tommy sighed and stood up, wrapping his blanket around him. "What are you doing out here?" He asked as he walked back to his room, Brian following close behind.  
  
"Came to get you," Brian shrugged. "What can I say, I know they'll kill you if they catch you sleeping out here, so, I figured I'd be nice."  
  
"Thanks," Tommy said grudgingly, falling into his own bed and curling up into a ball. "What time is it?"  
  
"You got another hour until they come to wake us up," Brian said, throwing himself down on his bed and clasping his hands behind his head. "You going back to sleep?"  
  
"Yes," Tommy closed his eyes, shuddering when he had a flash of Kate sitting on top of him. His eyes flew open, and he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Or not."  
  
"Not tired?"  
  
"Tired," Tommy corrected. "Just don't like what I see when I close my eyes." He frowned, squirming uncomfortably in the bed when he realized he still had her all over him, he could smell her, feel her… He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet bowl before he vomited, falling to his knees on the floor.  
  
"Man, you sick?" Brian followed him in, leaning against the doorframe and watching as Tommy threw up again.  
  
"No," Tommy wiped off his mouth on the back of his hand, and replaced the lid on the toilet bowl. He rested his head against the cool porcelain, "can you just leave me alone?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
Tommy looked at Brian dully, rolling his eyes when he recognized the manic glaze on his face. "I need a shower."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"I'm dirty."  
  
"You smell, that's true."  
  
"Just go away, I'm taking a shower," Tommy struggled to his feet, and slammed the bathroom door in Brian's face, leaning up against it. Not for the first time, he wished for a lock to ensure that Brian wouldn't enter. "Hopefully he'll stay out," he grumbled, turning on the shower as hot as it would go.  
  
He felt filthy. He was filthy. Kate, the night before, that had been, just….god. "Shit," he let out a muffled curse as he felt his stomach heave again, and fell to the floor in front of the toilet bowl again.  
  
All he needed to do was get clean, he told himself, crawling to the shower, and climbing in. He sat on the floor of the shower, the hot water beating down on him, his legs up against his chest, curled into a ball. And shivering, he wondered why he couldn't stop shivering. It was just sex, right? Men didn't get raped. He couldn't have been raped…  
  
But he'd said no. He distinctly remembered that. He'd said no.  
  
Tommy started to cry, and covered his face with his hands, hoping the water would just wash everything away. All traces of Kate, all memories of it…make it all go away. Because things like that just didn't happen.  
  
A long, hot shower. That would make everything alright.  
  
  
***************************************************************  
  
  
Tommy and Brian sat at breakfast, Brian as always goading Tommy, but for once, Tommy was refusing to reply, staring at his tray and pushing food around.  
  
"Aren't you going to eat?" Brian asked, waving a hand in front of Tommy's face when he didn't answer. "Hello, earth to Tommy."  
  
"Tommy?"  
  
Tommy's stomach churned at the sound of Kate's voice, and he stood up quickly, grabbing his tray and walking away. He dimly heard Brian calling after him, but ignored it, stacking his tray in the appropriate spot and hightailing it out of the cafeteria.  
  
"Tommy," Kate followed him, dumping her own tray and chasing him down the hallway. "Tommy, stop!"  
  
"Leave me alone," Tommy said harshly, walking faster when he realized she was behind him.  
  
"Tommy, please," Kate reached out and grabbed his hand, yanking him back. "I just want to talk."  
  
"Don't touch me!" Tommy jerked his hand away as if he'd been shocked, and stared at her in amazement. "Talk? What the fuck about, Kate?"  
  
"I just…"  
  
"I have nothing to say to you," he hissed, turning around and resuming his stomp back to his room. He ran inside and slammed the door shut, sitting down on his bed as he felt his body begin to tremble again. "God, what did she do to me," he whispered, running a shaky hand through his hair and shuddering. He'd been doing so well, getting better, so he'd thought, and now….he felt like he wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep forever.  
  
The door to the room slowly crept open, and Kate's head peeked in, "Tommy?"  
  
"Dammit, hasn't anyone ever heard of fucking privacy?" Tommy turned his back on her, not wanting to see her face, not wanting anything to do with her. "Go away."  
  
Kate walked into the room just the same, sitting down on the bed next to him. "I wanted to say how sorry I am about last night."  
  
Tommy turned to look at her, his eyes cold. "Sorry? You're sorry?"  
  
"So sorry," her hand touched his knee lightly, her face falling when he pulled his leg up on the bed, away from her. "I didn't mean to…"  
  
"Didn't mean to what, Kate?" Tommy interrupted her, his face white with anger. "Didn't mean to completely humiliate me, fucking blow me in the goddamn rec room? Didn't mean to fuck me? Didn't mean to throw me out afterwards?" He laughed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You know, Kate, I've had some meaningless sex in my life, but you take the cake."  
  
Kate's eyes narrowed, "Oh really?"  
  
"I said no, Kate, when did that not register on your mind?" Tommy's hands balled into fists, and he got up, positive if he remained seated next to her he would hit her, and he didn't want to make a bad situation any worse. "I _said no_!" He screamed, tears filling his eyes.  
  
"Maybe I wanted you to know how it felt!" Kate shouted back, standing up and walking to the door. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, shaking her head slowly. "You fucking men, you're all alike. You rape, you fuck, you think it's so cool. Until someone does it to you. Then you crack like the babies you truly are. Call what happened last night what it really was…not sex, not a blow job. I raped you, Tommy. Tell me, how did it feel?"  
  
"Get the fuck out of here," Tommy clutched as his stomach as he felt it begin to cramp again, and sweat broke out on his forehead.  
  
"Gone," Kate replied coolly, walking out the door and slamming it behind her.  
  
Tommy broke for the bathroom the moment the door closed, thanking god that at least he hadn't eaten breakfast. It wasn't like his stomach had much more to lose….  
  
Once he was done, he sat on his rear on the bathroom floor, wondering if he'd just thrown up his lithium pills he'd taken an hour earlier. "Gee, doc, what do you do when you puke up your pills," he said to himself, laughing at the inane thought. "Take 'em again? Or just say fuck it for the day? Oh what do you do…" He fell onto his side, finding the thought extremely funny, laughing hysterically. "Could be a song. Oh what, oh what do you do, when you puke, you puke up your pills…"  
  
"Oh lovely," Brian remarked, walking into the room in time to catch the end of Tommy's 'song.' "And you do nothing, to answer your question."  
  
Tommy bit his lip hard as he felt his laughter dissipate, replaced by an awful feeling of helplessness. He didn't stop Kate, he couldn't get out of here, he couldn't even keep the pills down that were supposed to be helping him. He couldn't do anything… "Fuck off," he called to Brian.  
  
"Now there's my Tommy again!" Brian called back. "Nice to see you back from the dead."  
  
"Blow me."  
  
"Isn't that what Adam Lambert is for?"  
  
Tommy laughed and stood up, shaking his head. "Classy, Brian, very classy," he said before leaving the room.  
  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
  
"You seem a little down today," Dr. Levine commented, looking at Tommy closely.  
  
"Do I?" Tommy asked nonchalantly, stretching his legs out in front of him.  
  
"A bit less animated than you usually are."  
  
"Isn't me being animated me being manic?" Tommy shot back, raising an eyebrow when the doctor didn't answer. "Isn't it?"  
  
"You are a hyper person, Tommy, with a lot of energy, I doubt that will ever go away."  
  
"Right," Tommy said with disbelief, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Want to tell me what's up?"  
  
Tommy sat in silence for a moment, chewing on his lower lip, until he asked, "Why do people rape?"  
  
The doctor didn't react visibly to the question, just asking back, "Are you asking why you raped the girl on the beach?"  
  
Tommy's breath caught in his throat, and he shook his head quickly, "God, no, I want to forget that. Just in general. Why?"  
  
"I suspect that the reason you did is the reason most people do," the doctor said evenly. "You could learn from your experience."  
  
"I just want to know why!" Tommy said in exasperation. "Just tell me, don't make me analyze this."  
  
"Control, Tommy, power over another person," Dr. Levine explained. "Generally, the person committing the rape has no power in their life, or feels like they do not. They use the rape to gain some sort of feeling of control, since they do not have it any other way. Rapes are committed by very sick people, those who cannot help themselves. It is that feeling of helplessness that can lead to the rape."  
  
Tommy stared at the floor in front of him, frowning. "But what if they don't actually, well," he shifted uncomfortably. "Um. Get off. From the rape, I mean." Kate hadn't had an orgasm. Or so he thought, anyway.  
  
Dr. Levine chuckled softly, "It is a myth that rape is about sex. It is rarely about sex. The reasons for the feelings of powerlessness and control loss may stem from sexual dysfunction, but the ultimate intent of the rape is not to, as you put it, get off."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The doctor took a deep breath, looking at Tommy carefully. "Is there something you want to tell me, Tommy?"  
  
Tommy shook his head quickly, "No."  
  
"On the beach, do you see why you did what you did to that girl?”  
  
“I had no control over my own mind, so I took control over someone else's," Tommy shuddered, and crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself tight. "I didn't want to do that to anyone," Tommy shot a quick glance at the doctor, hoping he wouldn't be able to figure out why Tommy was asking what he was. "Do girls do this?"  
  
"Do girls rape?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Dr. Levine nodded, "Of course. Women murder, women steal, women are just as capable of doing the down and dirty things that men do. Some believe that there are actually more female serial killers out there than men…and that the only reason we don't know there are more female serial killers is because we don't _look_ for female serial killers. Carry that belief over to rape…"  
  
"That women rape too?"  
  
"Yes. I am not saying that is the case, in either respect. It is just a theory. Criminology has many theories."  
  
Tommy just nodded slowly, letting the doctor's words sink in.  
  
"Men are also less likely to report rape than women. They are extremely traumatized by what has happened, made even worse by the belief that it doesn't happen to men, and the fact that it is embarrassing, to them, to admit that it happened."  
  
Tommy turned away from the doctor, blinking rapidly as tears filled his eyes. "Oh."  
  
"Tommy," Dr. Levine's voice softened, and he leaned forward in his chair, "are you positive there isn't anything you want to tell me?"  
  
"No," Tommy choked out, fighting the need to break down and cry. "I'm fine."  
  
"Positive?"  
  
"Positive."  
  
Dr. Levine sighed heavily, and sat back, tapping his pencil on his knee. "Alright then. We should start talking about your treatment once you leave here then….you're being released day after tomorrow…"  
  
  
**********************************************************  
  
  
Tommy sat in Dr. Levine's office, his hands clenched tight in his lap. He could get through this, he would be all right. God, how was he going to face her…  
  
"This is my office," Tommy heard the doctor's voice, followed by the door opening.  
  
Tommy felt his heart drop through his stomach, and stood up, watching as his mother walked into the room. "Mom."  
  
"Oh god, Tommy," her mothered cried, quickly running to Tommy and hugging him tight. "I'm so glad to see you."  
  
"Yeah," he replied, patting her back awkwardly. He hadn't wanted to do this, but the doctor had insisted he meet with his mother before his release.  
  
"Have a seat," Dr. Levine waved to a chair, and smiled as Jane sat down. "I explained to you over the phone why I wanted you to come in, I think you and Tommy need to work through some issues before he returns home, which as you know, he's doing tomorrow."  
  
She nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on her son.  
  
"Would you like to start?" The doctor prompted gently. "Tommy's here, you haven't seen him in a while…how do you feel?"  
  
Her eyes widened, and she smiled lightly. "Glad to see my son's alive."  
  
Tommy bit his lip hard, feeling tears come to his eyes at the tone in his mother's voice. "I'm fine, mom…"  
  
"You weren't fine," she said softly. "I was worried sick, Tommy, don't you know?"  
  
"I was always ok," Tommy frowned. "Really, even when I ran off, I was ok…"  
  
"I didn't know that!"  
  
"Why don't we talk about that," Dr. Levine cut in, looking at Jane consolingly. "When Tommy disappeared, how was that for you?"  
  
She choked back a sob, "I thought you were dead, Tommy, do you know how horrible that is? Not knowing if your own son is alive?"  
  
"I just wanted to get away," Tommy said softly, wiping angrily at the tear he felt roll down his cheek.  
  
"You knew I was coming, Tommy! And you just left, without a care in the world! God, I was terrified we were going to find you on the side of the road somewhere," She began to cry, and covered her face with her hands. "Adam even called the police, do you know that? Hospitals, the police, we really thought you were dead."  
  
Tommy stared at his mother, his stomach cramping with the overwhelming guilt he felt. "I'm sorry…"  
  
She snorted, and returned his gaze, shaking her head. "Sorry, Tommy? _Sorry?_ I'm sorry too, Tommy, god, don't you care about anything?"  
  
Tommy's eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. "Of course I do…"  
  
"Bullshit," she hissed, glaring at him. "You ran off without a word to me, so you clearly don't care about me. Same goes for your goddamn house." She turned to the doctor sadly. "I didn't mean to raise a spoiled brat, I swear to god."  
  
"Oh fuck you," Tommy shot back. "Now you see _why_ I ran off," he told the doctor angrily.  
  
"Ok, hold up," Dr. Levine interrupted, his hands in the air. "Tommy, I think what your mother is trying to say is that when you ran away like that, that made her feel like you didn't care about her. Am I right?”  
  
She nodded, “You knew full well I was on my way to your house when you left, and you must have known, somewhere deep inside, that I was going to worry."  
  
Tommy's lower lip trembled, as he looked at his mother. He sniffled before confessing, "I didn't, not then…"  
  
Jane jerked back in her seat, staring at Tommy sadly. "I knew it."  
  
"I do now, though, mom, I swear!!" Tommy began to cry, tears running down his face. "I am _so_ sorry for what I did, but I do care, I just, then, I didn't mean to…" his words trailed off, and he grabbed a tissue from the table, blowing his nose.  
  
"And what I believe Tommy is trying to express to you is that," Dr. Levine explained softly, "when he is like that he doesn’t think like he normally does. Would that be correct to say, Tommy?”  
  
Tommy nodded silently.  
  
"But, how…" She was crying outright now, and she was unable to look at Tommy as she asked the doctor. "What do I do? How can I handle him, knowing he doesn't care what I think, what I do?"  
  
"He's on his medication, and the medication is supposed to help him deal with the ups and downs of the disease," the doctor reassured her, “He has also shown great insight and growth into his disease through his time here. Not to mention, information is a powerful tool.”  
  
"But if he does?"  
  
"I _won’t_!" Tommy shouted, sniffling loudly. "God, mom, I didn't mean to, I swear to god, please, forgive me…"  
  
She looked at Tommy sadly, before shaking her head slowly. "I can't, Tommy." Her heart broke when Tommy let out a loud sob, and she bit her lip, fighting for composure before continuing. "I love you, you are my son, and I always _will_ love you. But I don't trust you right now" She sighed, before adding, "Neither can your sister and her children."  
  
Tommy gasped, and stared at his mom, horror crossing his face. "Oh, god, no, don't tell me they knew." When his mother didn't reply, he covered his mouth with his hand, bowing his head.  
  
"You told them? How could you, mom?" He asked weakly.  
  
"You were supposed to see them that day, don't you remember?" Jane asked him sadly. "I wasn't going to lie to them."  
  
"No,fuck, no," Tommy cried, choking on his sobs. "Not them, no…" He was always the good uncle to them, how could they know what he'd done, how could they ever look at him again?  
  
"I believe that now would be a good time to pause and take a breath.” Dr. Levine let his words hang in the air a minute as he waited for some of the tension to leave the room. “Tommy, it appears that you are quite distressed to hear that your mother shared this information with your extended family. Perhaps especially with your younger niece and nephew. Is this correct?”  
  
"You did this to Lisa too," Jane reminded him.  
  
" _No_!" Tommy said quickly, staring at her through his tears. "I love her!"  
  
"She loves you too, Tommy, and she's been worried sick about you."  
  
"Because _you_ fucking told them," Tommy said angrily.  
  
“I believe this is another time were we need to take a breath and remind ourselves why we are here. I hear a lot of blame and hurt feelings being thrown back and forth between you two. This is a natural response when one is in pain, to hurt the other person as much as they are hurting themselves. However, while temporarily rewarding, in the long run you lose sight of what you want to accomplish. The fact of the matter is that your mother told your family and now they know. This is a fact and it can’t be changed now. So, to move forward, would it be safe to say that you felt betrayed by your mother telling your family your business without consulting you?”  
  
Tommy could only nod, as he fought to regain control of his breathing.  
  
“And would it be safe to say, Jane, that you told the family because you were concerned about your son?”  
"I love you, Tommy," she replied, wiping at her own tears. "I just hope to god you're getting better in here, because I really don't know what I'd do if you did something like that again."  
  
"I won't, never again, I swear…."  
  
"Good," she smiled weakly at him.  
  
Dr. Levine smiled, and stood up. "I am sure if anything like this has to happen again to Tommy, he knows how to handle it better. Thanks for coming, Mrs. Ratliff," he was clearly ending the session there.  
  
Tommy stood up and awkwardly hugged his mother, his heart breaking when she began to cry again. "I'm sorry, Mom," he repeated, watching as the doctor lead her out. He sat back down on the couch and stared at the floor, unable to believe what she'd said. She didn't trust him. She'd told Lisa and her kids. He was trying in here, he really was…  
  
"Things are going to be fine Tommy," Dr. Levine said as he walked back into the room, smiling wryly at Tommy.  
  
"Oh, is that what you think?" Tommy asked, biting his lip hard. "She hates me."  
  
"No, Tommy, she's very scared," the doctor replied evenly. "She's terrified she's going to lose you."  
  
"I didn't _go_ anywhere!"  
  
"She didn't know that."  
  
"And, she told Lisa," Tommy found himself crying again, and groaned, leaning back on the couch. "How could she?"  
  
"Don’t you think that maybe your mom was scared, Tommy? Maybe she thought she needed some support and that’s why she told your sister. Maybe she wasn’t trying to hurt you…?"  
  
"No!" Tommy bit his lip hard, shaking from head to toe. "How is she ever going to look me in the eyes again??"  
  
"Your sister loves you, doesn't she?"  
  
"She used to," Tommy confessed, his face crumpling. "I guess she doesn't anymore."  
  
"She loves you, Tommy, that won't go away."  
  
"It did for mom," Tommy shot back.  
  
"You heard her, she said she loves you. She just can't trust you right now."  
  
"Right."  
  
"There is a difference."  
  
"I want, though, I want…" Tommy sobbed, and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I want Lisa to still trust me. I want to be something for her to be proud of."  
  
"And you're worried right now that you're not?"  
  
"I know I'm not! I’m going to do everything I can so she can be proud of me again."  
  
"That’s good, but you can’t get better for anyone else but yourself, Tommy. You have to want it for yourself or you will fail. You can’t live to get approval from someone else. You can only get approval from yourself or you will never be happy.”  
  
Tommy looked at the doctor, and nodded slowly. "I know. I'm not doing this again. Not to them and not to myself. I can't. I know now how to handle myself next time."  
  
"I'm glad to hear you say that."  
  
Tommy smiled lightly, and ran a hand through his hair. "You know? So am I."  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
---


	10. Chapter 10

Tommy sat alone in his room, bouncing slightly on his bed. His last night in here, and he would be free! Out of here for good. God, he couldn't wait…tomorrow morning, he'd be going home, and the next day he would leave for the Bahamas. He wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing Adam or Isaac again, but he would deal with that as it came. He hadn't been thinking too straight when he'd fought with them, and, well, it _had_ been Adam's fault. Adam had no right to say what he'd said to him, of that Tommy was sure.

"I am not trash," he frowned, and bounced a little more on the bed. "Not me." His eyes fell on his computer across the room, and he tilted his head, looking at it closely. His doctor had said that it was important that he have some sort of support system set up for when he got out of the hospital, that it wasn't going to be easy on him, that for a while, anyway, he would still be cycling a bit, and needed to realize that. He needed to use what he'd learned in the hospital, recognize his moods, and suppress whatever feelings were trying to take him over. Like the mania he could feel building in his head right now.

"It's not easier recognizing it," he muttered, chewing on his bottom lip. "Not at all." It was easier just going with it, getting hyper, acting goofy, doing whatever. But knowing what he was feeling was fake, like he did now? This had to be the worst feeling in the world.

Tommy sighed heavily and got up, grabbing his laptop and returning to the bed. His feet tapped together impatiently as he waited, watching as the computer took forever to run through its startup. "Sloooooow," he whined, smiling happily when it finally brought him to his desktop. He reached over to the nightstand and plugged his modem into the jack there, loving the idiocy of the fact that they had no phones in their rooms, but they did have wi-fi?. Didn't anyone know that you could make real phone calls on Skype these days?

Tommy opened his e-mail, frowning when he saw he didn't have any. Oh well, who the hell was worth talking to anyway? He was going to look for that support group…it had been a while. He typed in the website address and located the chatroom, chewing his bottom lip while he considered going in. He'd been told last time that if he truly wanted to join the group, he was going to have to turn over his real name and emergency contact information, something he didn't really want to do. But then again, maybe it was a good idea?

"If I can't trust myself," he whispered, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the computer screen. That's what his doctor had told him, after all. He couldn't truly ever trust his own mind, not 100%. He always would have to second guess himself, and be somehow conscious of the fact that it was possible for him to completely lose control. Lovely. He also didn't want someone like Adam being the person who had to be responsible for determining when he went off the edge. Knowing Adam, he'd say that Tommy was always nuts. Which he wasn't….or at least he wouldn't be…

Tommy took a deep breath, and clicked on the chatroom, watching while the room loaded. As it had been last time, the room was packed, full of people talking about various things. He watched the conversation fly by, laughing when he saw one person talking about how they'd gone a little overboard at a karaoke night the night before, singing drunken Britney Spears songs. "Isn't that what karaoke night is for?" He smiled, shaking his head. Only in a place like this would that be considered a dangerous sign of mania.

Tommy sat up in surprise when a private message window popped up on his screen, containing a quick, "Duke, is that you?" He frowned, and then smiled when he recognized the name of the sender. Tempest, the same girl he'd talked to last time. "Yup, it's me," he typed back.

"Where ya been? I kept asking Taurus if you'd sent in your info and joined the list, but he said you bailed!"

"I went," Tommy scratched his head, trying to think of the right words to say. "A bit nuts. I've been in a hospital. Getting out tomorrow."

"Woo! Released from the loony bin, go Duke!" She replied, followed by a row of smiley faces.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't feel like such an accomplishment. More like I never shoulda been here in the first place," Tommy confessed.

"Yah, but I bet there are lots of people who aren't getting out. You are. That's awesome."

Tommy smiled lightly. That was true, Kate, Brian, they were both staying. He was leaving. "Very true."

"Look, Taurus is on right now, if you want to get hooked up with your info and stuff," Tempest's messages came at a rapid pace. "The mailing list rocks, you know, but you can't join until he knows who you are."

"Yeah, I know."

"So…."

"I'll do it now," Tommy replied before he could second guess himself. He quickly opened up another message window, locating Taurus' name and double clicking. "Hey. Tempest said I gotta give you info to get on the list?"

Taurus' reply came quickly, "real name and number, and a contact name and number in case of emergency, you bet."

"You'll never do anything with it, right?" Tommy asked, a little nervous about giving out the information. "I mean, I don't want anyone knowing who I am, not really…"

"I'm the only one who will ever know. I got a beeper number, write this down," he gave Tommy the number, followed by a ringing sound. "In case you ever have _any_ sort of emergency situation with anyone on the list, you beep me, and I'll call whoever needs to be called. _Nobody_ else gets this information except me, there are people on the list whose identities kind of need to be protected."

"Identities need to be protected?"

"Celebrities who'd rather not have people know that they're bipolar. That kind of stuff."

Tommy laughed. "Yeah, I understand that."

"So? Give me. Your emergency info should be someone who will always know where you are, and how to get to you in case of an emergency."

Tommy typed in his name and cell phone number, before hesitating. Who should his emergency person be? His mother couldn't always get to him, not if she was across the country or something. He groaned, and reluctantly typed in Adam's manager name and cell phone number, as well as Isaac and Sophie’s home number. "There."

"Great, I'll add you to the e-mail list in a second."

"That's it?"

"Yup." Taurus sent a smile. "Why, you expecting something more?"

Tommy shrugged, and looked at the screen closely. "Dunno."

"That’s all for now," Taurus sent another message. "Feel free to talk if and when you felt like it."

Tommy smiled. "Thanks."

"No prob."

Tommy returned to the window with Tempest, "done."

"YAYYYYY!" A loud clapping sound followed. "So, you getting ready to break out of there?"

"I so can't wait."

"Tell me, what's up for you once you out? You stable yet?"

"Not quite, so they tell me."

"So they tell you, or do you know?"

Tommy frowned, and sighed. "I know. I'm manic now."

"Aah, Duke, you're gonna be just fine. Just get used to admitting that, ok?"

"Lovely," Tommy ran a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath. "Yeah, just lovely."

****************************************

*******************************  
  
Tommy grabbed his bags and walked out of the room, looking around the hospital as he walked down the hallway for the last time. "God, I am so not going to miss this place," he said softly, shuddering when he walked past the couch in the common area.  
  
"Oh, but we're so going to miss you," Brian said sarcastically, smacking Tommy's head playfully. "I got a single again!"  
  
"Good for you," Tommy replied, continuing down the hall and into the office. "I am busting out!" He announced happily.  
  
"Ok, Tommy," Dr. Levine was waiting for him, a white paper bag in hand. "Here are your pills for the next month," he handed them to Tommy. "Now, I want you to know, I do NOT like one bit that you're going to be going away for so long, so I want to hear from you, by phone, twice a week, at least. If you don't call, I'm calling Adam, you understand?"  
  
Tommy groaned, and rolled his eyes, "Fine."  
  
"When you get back, I would like to start regular appointments.”  
  
"But, I'm getting out, I thought…"  
  
Dr. Levine smiled wryly, "That you were cured? You know better by now, don't you?"  
  
Tommy sighed, and put the pills in his bag. "Yeah, I guess."  
  
"Adam's waiting for you outside," Dr. Levine said softly.  
  
Tommy's eyes widened in surprise. "Adam?" He hadn't given much thought to who would be picking him up, he'd just assumed it would be his mother.  
  
"He wants to apologize."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Tommy?"  
  
A shiver went down Tommy's spine at the soft voice, and he whirled around, "What do you want, Kate?"  
  
Kate walked over to him and hugged him, either not noticing, or not caring that he stood as stiff as a board when she did so. "I just wanted to say goodbye." She held up a CD case and stuck it into his bag, smiling at him. "Good luck, Tommy."  
  
"Yeah. Whatever," Tommy shifted his bags around, not knowing what to say to that.  
  
"Goodbye," she stood on tip toes and kissed him on the lips.  
  
Tommy let out a soft cry and jerked away, glaring at her. "Bye," he said quickly, whirling around and blowing out the door.  
  
"Tommy!" Adam got out of his car when he saw Tommy emerge, and ran to him, grabbing a bag from his shoulder. "How are you doing?"  
  
Tommy shrugged, and got into the car, throwing his bags in the back seat. "Been better, been worse." He definitely had been better before she'd kissed him, god, he wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand in disgust. He hadn't needed that.  
  
Adam slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. "Tommy, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for the things I said to you," he said softly as they pulled away from the hospital.  
  
"Yeah, well," Tommy shrugged again. He knew he'd had an entire speech planned out for Adam, yelling at him about he wasn't trash, but he couldn't think of it at the moment. Damn that Kate!  
  
"I know that you just went through a really rough time, and I want you to know how proud I am of you for doing it," Adam looked at him quickly, before returning his eyes to the road. "How proud we all are of you."  
  
"Thanks," Tommy said softly. The rough time wasn't over, wasn't that what everyone kept telling him? But Adam thought he was cured. So did the rest of his friends, apparently. Cute.  
  
"So," Adam smiled at him. "Looking forward to the Bahamas?"  
  
Tommy forced a smile onto his face and nodded, "Oh yeah. I bet I got a little pale in there, huh?"  
  
Adam chuckled, “I'm sure you'll be brown in no time."  
  
"Good."  
  
They drove in silence for a little while, before Adam looked at him, "You're being a little quiet, Tommy, is everything ok?"  
  
Tommy's eyes widened for a moment in disbelief, before he turned to stare out the window. "I'm fine." Of course everything wasn't ok, Adam! He'd just gotten out of the fucking mental hospital, where he'd been goddamn _raped_ , and now he was supposed to go away for a month and work like everything was just peachy? Fuck!  
  
"You know, if something's wrong, you can always tell me…"  
  
"I know," Tommy said quickly, leaning his head against the windowpane. His heart sunk as he realized what the problem was. He was cycling, and he'd cycled down. He was in a depression. Well, he wasn't about to admit _that_ to Adam.  
  
"You have your medication, and all that?"  
  
"Yes," he said angrily. "You think they'd let me leave without it?"  
  
"Sorry Tommy, just checking," Adam said, his expression apologetic. "I just want to make sure you're ok, you know?"  
  
"I told you, I'm _fine_ ," Tommy repeated. "I just want to get home."  
  
"Car's coming to pick you up at 8am tomorrow for the trip to the airport."  
  
"Ok."  
  
Adam looked at Tommy and sighed, before returning his eyes to the window. "This is going to be an interesting trip."  
  
Tommy snorted, "Yeah. Real interesting."  
  
**************************************************************************  
  
Tommy stared out the window as the car sped towards the airport, fighting back a yawn. He'd been unable to sleep the night before, somehow, unbelievably, he'd gotten used to the sounds of the hospital at night, and the silence in his house had been deafening. He'd given up sleep around 4am, and had spent the early morning playing video games until the car had arrived.  
  
The car slowed to a stop and Tommy jumped out, grabbing his bags and dashing inside before anyone could spot him. He didn't want to be recognized, not today, not now. He just wasn't in the mood.  
  
He quickly made his way onto the runway, where the plane they were chartering for the flight to the Bahamas was waiting. He walked up the steps and inside, smiling lightly when he saw Isaac, Ravi, Ross and Justin were already there. "Hey."  
  
"We were wondering when you were gonna join us," Isaac joked, jumping up and grabbing him in a hug. "How you doing, Tommy?"  
  
"Fine," Tommy said softly, pushing away and sitting down. He frowned when he saw everyone was just staring at him, and groaned, "what?"  
  
"It's good to see you," Ravi said, smiling at him.  
  
"You're all looking at me like I have a third head," he replied, squirming uncomfortably under their gaze. He gave a start when he felt the plane start to move, and turned to peer out the window.  
  
"We were just concerned," Ravi explained. "When Isaac said you were in the hospital…."  
  
"I know, you all figured I was nuts," Tommy interrupted, turning back around to glare at Isaac. "Look, let me say this once, to all of you, and we can close this subject, OK?" He looked at everyone until they nodded, then continued. "Yes, I was in the hospital. Yes, I have a mental illness. No, I am not going to jump off the deep end right now, so please, stop looking at me like you fucking pity me. I'm fine, I'm here, and I really would appreciate it if we could just get back to normal."  
  
"Normal?" Isaac asked softly. "What's normal, Tommy? You've been bouncing off the walls for as long as I’ve known you."  
  
Tommy's eyes widened, and he looked at Isaac, "I always will bounce off the walls, Isaac, that's who I am."  
  
"Did you sleep last night?" Ravi asked pointedly.  
  
Tommy frowned, and crossed his arms over his chest, sitting back on the seat. "I'm not answering that."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I told you, I'm fine!" Tommy insisted, glowering when Ravi made a face. " _What?_ We can turn this plane around right now if you're all going to try to mother me for the next month. I've had enough of that in the past two weeks to last me the rest of my life."  
  
"We're all just concerned, Tommy," Ross said, looking at him sadly. "We don't want to see you hurt."  
  
"I'm not hurt, OK? I'm medicated, I'm being treated, and everything is just dandy. With that, he stood up and walked to the back of the plane, where he sat in silence for the rest of the flight.  
  
********************************************************************  
  
Tommy looked around his room, smiling lightly. Ok, so maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Thanks to Adam, the studio they would be spending their time at was part of an amazing resort complex, and for the next few weeks, it was all theirs. Tommy could see out to the ocean from his room, and the pool was only a few feet from his front door. "And that's where I'm going," he told himself, digging into his bag and pulling out his bathing suit. A swim. That would be just what he needed to clear his head after blowing up at everyone on the plane.  
  
He had to stop doing that, yelling at everyone when they got all concerned. He knew they were just worried about him, that he'd scared them, or at least, that was what the doctor had told him. But knowing it, and accepting their mothering was another thing. He had a hard enough time taking mothering from his mother, but from these guys? No way.  
  
Tommy changed into his bathing suit and headed out to the pool, not at all surprised to find Isaac and Justin already in the pool. He dove in, laughing when Isaac turned to kick water in his face.  
  
"Leave some water in the pool," Ravi scolded, walking out of his room with a laugh.  
  
"Whatever," Tommy shot back. He proceeded to pummel Isaac with splashes. He had missed hanging out with his friends like this, just playing around, not worrying about what kind of mood he was in, what they were thinking…just having fun. The way things used to be…  
  
This he could handle, Tommy thought. Let them play. He jumped on Isaac's back and shoved him under the water, laughing joyfully when Ravi cheered him on. This was fun.  
  
Isaac emerged, sputtering and laughing, threatening to get Tommy back.  
  
Tommy just grinned, and shrugged. Sure, Isaac could get him, he didn't care. For the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he was really having fun. That would be worth all the dunks in the world.  
  
*********************************************************  
  
A week later, Tommy was trying to remember why he'd thought being in the Bahamas was a good thing. He was tired, grumpy, angry at everyone, and overall just not having a good time. He hated the music they were working on, well, most of it, and the few songs he did like, he was not going to admit to. It was just easier to say he hated it all.  
  
Tommy rolled out of bed with a groan, padding over to the dresser and staring at his pill bottle. He dutifully took his pills, before heading into the bathroom. If Ravi asked him one more time if he'd been taking his meds, he was going to snap, he knew it.  
  
They were concerned. They were worried. He was supposed to try to understand, and he did, but couldn't they leave him alone? They didn't know he wasn't sleeping, they didn't know he'd been in tears nearly every night. They didn't _know_ what he was going through, so why were they treating him like this? To them, he should be fine.  
  
To them, he _would_ be fine. He had to be. And he would keep taking his pills until he was.  
His business over with, Tommy pulled on a bathing suit before walking outside, finding the group already seated at a table, eating breakfast. "Morning," he mumbled, sliding into a chair.  
  
"Morning Tommy," Ravi smiled at him. "Sleep well?"  
  
"Great," Tommy replied, reaching for the coffee. He poured himself a cup, and examined the spread in front of him, grabbing a muffin and putting it on his plate.  
  
"Been gaining a little weight, Tommy?" Isaac remarked, sitting back in his seat look Tommy up and down.  
  
Tommy's face froze, and he glared at Isaac, "What?"  
  
"Just noticing a little," Isaac patted his tummy, and grinned. "You jiggled when you walked out here."  
  
Tommy's eyes narrowed, and he threw the muffin at Isaac, hitting him smack in the head. "Fuck you," he hissed.  
  
"Tommy, he didn't mean it…" Justin said softly.  
  
"He did," Tommy said angrily, standing up and shaking his head. "You're right. I've gained weight. You know why?" He waited until he'd met everyone's eyes, before sneering at them. "My fucking pills. So make your choice. Either you get me fat, or you get me crazy. What do you want?"  
  
"Tommy," Ravi tried to calm him down. "Isaac was just being a shit…"  
  
"Fuck you all," Tommy spat out. "You don't like me crazy, yet you don't like what the shit I take to make me sane does to me. Like it's working _anyway_ ," he bit his lip as he felt his eyes fill with tears, and turned away. "I'm going back to my room."  
  
"Tommy…"  
  
Tommy ignored Ravi's cry of his name and stormed off, slamming the door behind him inside his room. He threw the bolt and flopped down on his bed, face first. Curling up into a ball, he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting his tears. No more crying.  
  
No more cycling.  
  
He'd just sleep now. Sleep was good. Maybe if he slept, when he woke up, he'd find this had all been a dream.  
  
Maybe his whole life had just been a dream….  
  
*****************************************************  
  
When Tommy woke up a few hours later, it was mid-afternoon. He briefly contemplated going out and seeing what the guys were up to, but quickly axed the idea. He didn't want to know. Not now, not today. He just didn't care.  
  
He knew what he wanted to do though. He pulled out his laptop and booted it up, waiting for his laptop to establish a wi-fi connection. Over the last week he'd found himself online most of the time he'd been in his room, and Tempest had gone from being just another person he ran into in the chatroom, to someone he would almost consider a friend.  
  
Almost, anyway, he still couldn't get over the fact that he didn't know who, or where she was. He had an image of her in his head, what he thought she looked like, what he thought she sounded like. He'd never asked for a picture of her, he didn't want to either, just in case she asked for one in return. But he still could picture her, and almost felt her in the room with him when they were talking.  
  
Tommy wasn't sure if he would have made it through the last week if it hadn't been for her. She'd been there every night, calming him down, telling him not to worry, that what he was feeling was normal, that he had to remember it took nearly six weeks for medication to reach its full effective level, and of course he was still cycling. Convincing him that pretending he wasn't was the right thing to do, that not snapping or screaming at his friends was a good thing.  
  
Until this morning, anyway, he'd kept up the face pretty well, or so he thought. And then he'd gone and blown it.  
  
Tommy wasn't online for more than two minutes before a message popped up from Tempest.  
"Hey Duke. How's it hanging?"  
  
"I blew it," Tommy typed back.  
  
"Blew who? Lucky boy…"  
  
"Very funny," in spite of himself, Tommy found himself cracking a smile. She always did that, he mused. She always found something worth laughing about. Maybe someday he'd learn how to do that too?  
  
"So? What happened?"  
  
Tommy sighed, and began typing. "One of my friends said I was gaining weight, told me I was jiggling. Fucking jiggling, like goddamn Santa Claus."  
  
"Are you gaining weight?" Tempest asked. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, you know."  
  
"Yeah…fucking pills," Tommy replied, frowning. "Doc said I'd gain weight on 'em."  
  
"10-20 pounds, yeah," Tempest sent a loud farting noise. "Sucks, don't it?"  
  
Tommy snickered, "yeah. I got so pissed, just lost it. Yelled at them, ran off, came back here and fell asleep."  
  
"Oops."  
  
"Yeah, oops. I guess they know now I've been cycling."  
  
"Not necessarily," Tempest's answer came quickly. "Just talk to them, tell them that your weight's a sensitive topic, that you got upset because of that, not because you're cycling or anything. Isn't that possible?"  
  
"My weight is a sensitive topic, and they know it."  
  
"Then point out that they should have known better than to bring it up with you. Put the blame on them, not you."  
  
Tommy looked at the words on the screen for a moment, before asking, "I can do that?"  
  
"Duke, you can do anything. Didn't anyone ever tell ya how amazing the power of persuasion is?"  
  
Tommy laughed, "What, that manic personality stuff?"  
  
"Hell yeah, use it! Man, the shit you can get away with when manic…you'd be amazed."  
  
"Like?"  
  
A loud laughing sound preceded Tempest's question. "I never told you about my big trip off the deep end, did I?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Wanna know?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Ok, but wait. Are you ok? I don't want to change subjects if you're still upset…."  
  
Tommy shook his head, and got comfortable on the bed, pulling the laptop onto his legs. "I'm cool. I'd rather talk about you anyway."  
  
"Aren't you a sweetie?"  
  
Tommy located a kissy sound on his computer, and sent that. "You have no idea."  
  
"And so modest too."  
  
"Hey, I got a manic personality, baby."  
  
The raucous laughter was heard again, "I've taught you far too well, Duke."  
  
"You're a good teacher." Tommy bit his lip, and stared at the screen. She was an amazing teacher. She knew him, she understood him, and could take all of his faults and still make him laugh. She didn't care who he was, or what his money could buy. She just liked him, and was helping him. If only she was real… He wondered what would happen if he asked to meet her in real life. Could she? Could he? He lost his train of thought as a long paragraph appeared on screen, and leaned forward to read.  
  
"Ok, so, my big crazy moment. I was in college in New York City, and I was, well, fairly obsessed with a musician. I kept watching his videos, thinking, you know, he's not looking good. He was looking pale…and I decided he was talking to me. He needed me to save him, I could see him in those videos, saying help me. Then one day, I kinda snapped…I'd gotten yelled at by a teacher in class, and just took off. It was time for me to save him. I decided that the only way for me to get close enough to him to save him was to be a dancer and audition for his tour. So I went uptown, and enrolled in dance classes. Auditioned for them, and got in. With no dance experience, mind you, there's that manic personality for you. Then I decided the dance classes weren't enough, so I went shopping. Bought a new dress, and some heels, oh god! They were hideous. But at the time I thought they were great. I bought a $1,000 dress, for the Grammy's that year, or so I convinced myself, I just went way overboard."  
  
"Oh wow," Tommy typed, laughing. "What happened?"  
  
"Oh, you're gonna love this," Tempest continued. "The whole world knows he is gay and yet I kept telling myself that he just had not met the right girl yet. My roommates, they knew I'd gone pretty wacko, and they had me admitted to Bellevue. So get this. You know how you have to fill out emergency contact information?"  
  
Tommy giggled, "oh no."  
  
"Oh yes. His phone number. His name. His address."  
  
"Damn."  
  
"No shit," Tempest sent another laugh. "I still wonder to this day if he ever found out about it. I figure he must have, if they called that number. Not that he would have had a clue who I was, but still….pretty humiliating."  
  
"You had his phone number?"  
  
"Yeah, it's not current anymore, but I did then."  
  
Tommy shook his head, still laughing, "Who was he?"  
  
"Aah, not important."  
  
"Tell!"  
  
"Well, you ever heard of Adam Lambert?"  
  
Tommy's face paled. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, before he typed in slowly, "yes."  
  
"I know his music is probably not your type. Most guys don’t listen to that type of music."  
  
Tommy didn't reply, he just stared at the screen, unable to believe that she'd just mentioned Adam.  
  
"So, Adam is my guy."  
  
Tommy didn't know if he was upset by that information, or relieved. "Adam Lambert, huh."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I still _am_ a huge fan, just not quite as obsessed as I used to be."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Nice story, right?"  
  
"Yeah…"  
  
"I need to run for a bit, did I get you smiling, at least?" Tempest asked, before playing another loud laughing sound. "Did I? Huh? Huh?"  
  
"You did," Tommy couldn't help but smile again. Yeah, despite finding out that she was obsessed with…shit… _Adam_ ….he was smiling. "I should go find the guys and talk to them."  
  
"Remember what I told you. Turn this around. It's _their_ fault."  
  
"I will."  
  
"Take care, Duke."  
  
"You too, Tempest."  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
  
Tommy found the guys in the studio, playing backs some tracks they'd recorded. "Hey," he said lightly, forcing a smile onto his face.  
  
"Tommy," Ravi stood up, a solemn expression on his face. "Let's talk." He walked to the door and held it open, waving Tommy out.  
  
Tommy could feel the dread churning in his stomach as he walked outside, taking a seat by the deserted pool and looking up at Ravi. "What," he said flatly, feeling the desolation he'd been fighting earlier beginning to return.  
  
"Isaac's an asshole at times," Ravi remarked, sitting down next to him with a soft chuckle. "Why do you let what he says get to you?"  
  
Tommy bit his lip and looked away, shaking his head. "He called me fat."  
  
"So? You know he was just being a jerk, normally shit like that doesn't get to you…"  
  
"He's right," the words left Tommy's mouth before he had a chance to think about what he was saying, and he quickly frowned. "Shit."  
  
"You're not fat," Ravi said slowly.  
  
"I've gained weight."  
  
"So what?"  
  
"So I've gained weight." Tommy repeated, biting his lip harder as he felt tears form in his eyes.  
  
"Tommy, I'd rather have you healthy and overweight than skinny and sick," Ravi said sincerely. "Don't you ever think anything different? Isaac would too, although getting him to admit it would be another thing."  
  
Tommy just shrugged, not willing to trust his voice with the emotions he was suddenly feeling sweeping over him.  
  
"Nothing wrong with not being all skin and bones."  
  
"I guess," Tommy whispered, staring up at the stars in the sky.  
  
Ravi looked at Tommy closely, his eyes narrowing. "What's really wrong, Tommy?"  
  
Tommy shook his head, frowning. Everything was wrong, he was wrong, nothing was right anymore. He wasn't sure who he _was_ anymore, he could feel it, and it was killing him. The person he had been he didn't like. And now? He didn't know who he was supposed to be. But he wasn't going to say it. He couldn't. Not to Ravi, not to Adam, not to anyone.  
  
"I never want to see you the way you were that day again, Tommy, if you feel yourself going down that path again, please…"  
  
"It's not that," Tommy said softly. "I'm getting better."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
Completely against his will, Tommy began to cry, covering his face with his hands. He jerked away when Ravi tried to touch his shoulder, smacking his hand. "Leave me alone!"  
  
"Tommy, please, let me help you!" Ravi pleaded, the concern dripping from his voice.  
  
"You can't. It's the fucking _help_ that's made me like this!" Tommy cried, angrily wiping tears from his face.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Don't you get it?" Tommy asked, his eyes bright with his tears. "My entire life has been an emotional roller coaster. I haven't been living as _me_ , I've been living as my fucking cycles. Now, I'm finally able to take a look at who I am, and, fuck," he doubled over, his hands clasping around the back of his neck. "I hate who I see."  
  
"Why?" Ravi asked softly. His head shot up when he heard a noise from the direction of the studio, and he waved Isaac away, shaking his head.  
  
Isaac looked at Tommy sadly, before nodding, returning to the studio with his head hanging low.  
Tommy continued to sob, not noticing Isaac's appearance and disappearance. "I was manipulated. Completely weak….just…a victim. If my mood went up, I acted like it. If it went down, I acted that way too. Then, then," he sniffled, and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "Something happened. Something that made it so clear just how little of a will of my own I have." He looked up at Ravi, and sighed. "I don't want to be like that anymore."  
  
"What happened to you, Tommy?"  
  
Tommy shook his head, "That's not important. What's important is figuring out who the hell I am now. Because not knowing is killing me."  
  
Ravi frowned, and leaned forward, "Tommy, talking about it…"  
  
"I've done enough fucking talking!" Tommy snapped angrily. "I was stupid, I was weak, and I fucking let it happen. Just like I let everything else in my life just happen. I'm not letting anything happen to me anymore, do you get that? _That's_ what I'm saying. I can't stand who I've become, and I have to fight it."  
  
"Most people do question the person they've become, Tommy, there's nothing wrong with that."  
  
"Most people have had some control over the person they had become," Tommy said dryly. "I haven't. I do now, for the first time in my life."  
  
"That's good, isn't it?"  
  
Tommy nodded slowly, before wiping off his wet cheeks. "Yeah."  
  
"But you're scared."  
  
Tommy snorted, and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah." To say the least.  
  
"That's completely normal, Tommy."  
  
Tommy looked at Ravi in surprise. "Really?"  
  
Ravi chuckled. "Of course dude. Everyone goes through it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"You want to get some sleep? It's getting a little late."  
  
Tommy laughed, and shrugged. "I guess." He'd slept half of the morning, and spent the whole day in his room, sure, what was some more time locked up in there. He stood up and stretched, smiling lightly. "Thanks, man."  
  
Ravi stood up, smiling at Tommy. "No prob. Look, Tommy, whenever you do feel like talking about what happened, you know you can always come to me."  
  
"I'm not talking about that. Ever," Tommy said firmly.  
  
"You need to get it out."  
  
" _Never_ ," he said, shaking his head.  
  
"Write it down, then?"  
  
"I don't write."  
  
"In a song?" Ravi smiled. "Maybe if you wrote something good, we could record it, even. That is why we're here, to write and record. Write a song that means something, Tommy. I challenge you. Write it and we are gonna put it in the album."  
  
Tommy smiled, and nodded. "All right, man. You're on."  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
Tommy woke up the next morning with a smile on his face. It felt like it had been years since that had happened, and that fact alone made him even happier.  
  
He crawled out of bed and grabbed his laptop, leaving it booting while he did his business in the bathroom. Once he was done, he logged online, happy to find Tempest hanging out in the chatroom. "Hey!" He typed, smiling from ear to ear.  
  
"Hi," the reply took a while to come.  
  
"How are you?" Tommy asked. He was dying to tell her about the song he'd begun writing, but figured he should be polite and ask about her first.  
  
"Don't ask. You?"  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Shit, I said don't ask!"  
  
Tommy's eyes widened and he sighed, before typing. "Fine."  
  
"Sorry, I don't mean to snap, it's just been a bad night."  
  
Tommy snorted and typed, "It’s morning."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
"A really bad trip down amnesia lane, followed by lots and lots of feeling sorry for myself."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I'm in love with a man who doesn't even know I exist," Tempest's words flew onto the screen, and Tommy could almost hear the anger in the black text as it appeared. "He's gay, totally unreachable, a fucking pop star, and I've spent how much time pining over him? I'm pathetic."  
  
"Why do you think he's so unreachable?"  
  
"As I said, he's gay and a pop star."  
  
"Anyone could be anyone, on here."  
  
Tempest sent the sound of laughter. "You know rumors always fly that Taurus is a celeb. And he _loves_ telling us that there are other celebs on here, that that's why he's set this up as he has."  
  
"A celeb?"  
  
"Famous. I even had this fantasy going for a while that he was Adam. Stupid, I know."  
  
"It's possible," Tommy typed as he shrugged.  
  
"It's crap. I think he just tells us that shit to make us feel better. No celebrity would need a fucking website chatroom to make themselves feel better."  
  
Tommy felt as if he'd been kicked in the chest, and took a moment before slowly typing, "Why do you say that?"  
  
"Rich, famous, beautiful, what more do you need?"  
  
"Happiness," there was no question in Tommy's mind.  
  
"Doesn't that come with?"  
  
"No."  
  
There was a long pause before Tempest's reply. "You talk like you know."  
  
Tommy bit his lip, before typing, "I do."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're not supposed to do this!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Tease me with who you are, who you could be. I'm not supposed to ask, I'm not supposed to want to know!"  
  
"I want to know who you are, Tempest!" Tommy's fingers flew across the keyboard as the thoughts spun through his mind. "You have helped me a lot lately, and I hate that I don't know who you really are. How old are you? Where do you live? What do you look like? Why can't I know?"  
  
"It's safer this way."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I hate who I am."  
  
" _So do I_! Damn, that's exactly what I want to know! You know how I feel, Tempest!"  
  
"Julia."  
  
Tommy sat up straight, his eyes fixed on the name. "What?"  
  
"That's my name. Julia."  
  
Tommy's heart was pounding in his chest, as he spoke her name aloud. "Julia."  
  
"I hate it."  
  
"It's beautiful."  
  
"I hate you."  
  
"You're probably beautiful too."  
  
"Why are you doing this?"  
  
Tommy frowned, and narrowed his eyes, before asking. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You're being nice to me. You're telling me really nice, really wonderful things. Real men don't do this to me, real men are mean, and cruel, and hurt me…"  
  
"I would never hurt you."  
  
"If you saw me, you would."  
  
"Julia…"  
  
"Stop it. I shouldn't have said my real name. I shouldn't have gotten into this, god…." There was a long pause, before her words continued. "Now you have me crying. Happy?"  
  
"Tommy."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm Tommy."  
  
"Tommy."  
  
"Are you ok?"  
  
"No. Not at all. Enough about me, though, you sounded happy before, what's up?"  
  
"Just been writing, Ravi suggested I try to get out some of my feelings into a song, and I've did that half the night last night, it was really cool."  
  
" _What??_ "  
  
Tommy frowned, before gasping and clasping his hand over his mouth. Oh shit. He hadn't meant to…  
  
"Ok, whoever is doing this, it's not fucking funny. Sure you're Tommy. Bipolar? My ass. You are not Tommy, you're not in Adam’s band, and I don't appreciate the joke."  
  
"Julia, I'm not joking…"  
  
"Go to fucking hell, Duke, I'm signing off."  
  
"My name is Tommy!!"  
  
"Yeah, and I’m Sauli. Fuck off."  
  
Tommy could only watch in horror as Tempest left the chatroom, his heart sinking. Shit. He really was Tommy, and he really was in Adam’s band!  
  
Damn, he'd never wished so much that he wasn't.  
---  
  
  
  
  
  
---  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Tommy spent what he felt was a fairly productive day in the studio, and was slowly starting to feel like a member of the band again. The only tense moment came when Ravi asked him if he was working on a song, and he'd replied yes, but…he wasn't ready to show it yet.

Isaac had immediately jumped on that and begun cracking jokes, how they were not about to record any song with the words "badass" or "shit" in them, so Tommy could just stop writing now. Ravi, fortunately, had told Isaac to grow up, and that if Tommy wrote a decent song, they were going to record it.

Tommy returned to his room that night, immediately jumping online to look for Tempest. He was restless, antsy, and could feel the frustrating tension building up inside of him that signaled the beginning of a manic cycle. He needed to see her, needed to make sure she was all right. He needed to tell her he was sorry.

Much to Tommy's surprise, it wasn't Tempest who he first encountered online, but someone he'd never spoken with before, nicknamed EcceHomo. The first message was ambiguous enough, just a random "hi, come here often?" But that was followed by, "so Ratliff, miss me?"

Tommy stared at the screen for a moment, before slowly typing, "Do I know you?"

The reply came quickly, "of course you do, Tommy boy. I'm out, isn't that just swell? They finally decided I was good enough to rejoin society. Poor Kate's still in there, all by her lonesome self…she misses you, you know. Silly Kate seemed to have gotten quite a crush."

"Oh damn," Tommy whispered, realizing who he had to be talking to. He felt his stomach churn at the mention of Kate's name, and it was with shaky hands that he typed his reply. "Brian?"

"Bingo, Tommy boy."

"You're out?"

"Nuts, right? I'm stable enough, I guess, still cycling, but not so bad. Medicated, anyway."

"That's good…"

"Look, you got a phone? I knew how to find you here from watching you on your computer back in the loonybin, but I'm not one for this dot-com crap."

Tommy snickered. "Since when do you want to talk to me?"

"Since you're the only person I know out here as crazy as I am," Brian typed back. "So? Phone?"

Tommy typed in his cell phone number, deciding that he might as well talk to Brian. There was no way he was about to be able to sleep, he could see Taurus wasn't online so…why not.

A few minutes later, Tommy's phone rang, with a similarly manic Brian on the other end. Tommy found it strangely consoling to talk to Brian, not only did Brian understand what he was going through, but he also understood who he was, so there were none of the fears of disclosing personal information that he felt with Tempest.

They talked for hours, with Tommy telling Brian all about Tempest, and Brian teasing him endlessly about how jealous Tommy must be of Adam… "Your fantasy internet girl has a crush on model boy? How sickening." Brian also did wonders to reassure Tommy not to worry too much about her, "We're crazy, remember? You knew she was depressed, you pushed her buttons, she got wacky on you. Don't take it personally."

Brian told Tommy what his life had been like since his release from the hospital, and much like Tommy, he was having a hard time adjusting to real life again. He'd been through this before, and was determined to make it this time, to "wade through the shit that my emotions make me do and actually figure out who I am and what I want to do."

Tommy even read Brian some of the lyrics he'd written for the song he was working on, and was blown away by Brian's honest reply that they were some of the best lyrics he'd ever heard. "Really?" Tommy asked in amazement.

"Totally, man," Brian said sincerely. "Do you realize how much power you have? If you guys record this, release it, maaan, you'll be telling the whole world about us."

Tommy frowned, "Is it really that obvious what I'm talking about?"

"'Darkness consumes to be blasted away, when the head starts to race…' Well, maybe it's because I've been through it, but yeah, to me anyway, there's no question you're talking about cycling."

"I don't know if I want people to know," Tommy said softly.

"I hear ya," Brian agreed. "But think about it. Your fans are gonna love you, no matter what. People only see us crazy folks as wild eyed loonies in straight jackets. If _you_ admit you're bipolar? You'll change everything."

"You are a wild eyed loony," Tommy said dryly.

"I'm not the songwriter."

"Nobody would ever look at me the same."

"True. But if you don't tell them, are they really seeing _you_ anyway?"

Tommy was silent as he considered the question. Finally, he asked, "Do they really want to know me?"

"That you're bipolar?"

"Yeah."

"You're a musician, man, why the hell not. Who is it, Tori Amos, I think, said that she could only write songs when she was depressed? She made some comment about how she was happy, and having the hardest time in the world writing music."

Tommy laughed, "You know, I can understand that."

"So think about it."

"I can't even imagine showing the other guys my song, much less the world."

"I haven't heard you play it or anything," Brian said with a laugh, "and trust me, I have no desire to hear you either. But based on the lyrics? I say go for it. If nothing else, it's better than that pop crap the model boy normally sings."

"Thanks," Tommy replied as he yawned. "Damn, I think I'm actually tired."

"Meds are workin, huh?"

"Pretty well," Tommy admitted. "I'm still cycling, but nowhere near as bad, and I can deal with it. I was a little up tonight."

"No shit."

"I'm ok now."

"You wouldn't be tired otherwise."

"Right."

"Go to bed, pretty boy," Brian advised. "Maintain regular sleep patterns and all that."

"Gotcha."

"And, hey, Tommy? Remember, don't ever think you're cured, ok?"

Tommy frowned, "What do you mean?"

"It's when you start thinking that you're better, that you start getting into trouble. Trust me, that's how I ended up back in that hell hole. You think…I'm better, so I can snort a line and be peachy. I'm better so…if I forget to refill my prescription it'll be ok. You're not better. You're _never_ getting better. Medication just helps."

Tommy sighed, "Yeah. Thanks, Brian."

"Anytime, Tommy. Catcha online."

"You too."

****************************************

**********************  
  
As it turned out, Brian had been right. Tommy found Tempest online the next night, and no mention was made of the conversation they had had two nights before, they just chatted as if nothing had ever happened. That didn't stop Tommy from wondering who she was, though, and slowly a plan began to form in his mind.  
  
The time in the Bahamas flew by, and before Tommy knew it, the final week was upon them. They had been incredibly successful at working together, and four whole songs had been penned, and recorded, by the group as a whole. One song, however, still had yet to be unveiled.  
  
They were sitting around by the pool one night, relaxing, when Tommy finally broached the subject. "So, you guys know I've been working on a song."  
  
"So we hear," Isaac snickered. "But I warned you…"  
  
"No, Isaac, the words 'badass,' and 'shit,' are not in it," Tommy said quickly.  
  
"What about it, Tommy?" Ross asked curiously. "Can we hear?"  
  
Tommy ran a hand through his hair, feeling strangely nervous. "I don't know, I mean, it's about…" He frowned, and looked at Isaac, shaking his head. "Forget it."  
  
"What's it about?" Ravi asked, covering Isaac's mouth when the man opened it to make a comment.  
  
"Me," Tommy replied. "It's about me."  
  
"I want to hear it, Tommy," Justin said sincerely.  
  
"It's called 'The Story of a Son,'" Tommy continued, refusing to look at anyone as he spoke. "But, I don't know, it's, well, kinda obvious what it's about, and…"  
  
"We want to hear," Ravi said, nodding for emphasis. "Definitely."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Positive," Justin said.  
  
Tommy took a deep breath, and stood up. He clasped the guitar in his hands and closed his eyes, softly beginning to play and sing. Halfway through the song, he opened his eyes, seeing the guys staring at him in awe. Encouraged, he played the bridge, and the final refrain, leaving the final verse hanging in the air. "So," he asked softly when he was done. "What'd you think?"  
  
"Holy," Isaac breathed, his eyes wide. "Tommy, that was…."  
  
"Amazing," Ravi interrupted. "You have to let us record this."  
  
"But, it's obvious, right? I mean," Tommy stammered. "The stuff in there…"  
  
"So what?" Ravi shrugged. "We don't have to say it's about you, unless you want to, anyway."  
  
"I guess," Tommy conceded.  
  
Ross had been staring at Tommy, and he took a deep breath before asking, "Tommy, you said in there, you…."  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," Tommy said quickly. "The song stands alone."  
  
"That was what you didn't want to talk about," Ravi said softly, enlightenment dawning on him.  
  
"Yeah," Tommy nodded slowly. "Please don't make me."  
  
"We won't," Justin answered. "But you will let us record this?"  
  
Tommy smiled, "Yeah, if you think it's good enough."  
  
"It is."  
  
"And, I think," Tommy took a shaky breath, and ran a hand through his hair. "I think I want to do something special with this song. If you're willing, that is?"  
  
"Do what?" Ravi asked.  
  
Tommy told them his idea, and they all set to work.  
  
By the time they left the Bahamas one week later, the fifth song, and their first single, had been recorded. It would be premiered at a gig, for the fans, to be held in one month, announcing the album's release date. Invites to the conference went out to random members of Adam’s fan club and their friends and family.  
  
Mostly random, anyway. Taurus received an invitation from Tommy, to pass on to one very special person.  
  
This gig was to be like none other. For the fans and little did Tommy know, for him as well.  
  
As Brian told him, life is always changing. Nothing can ever be anticipated.  
  
Once again…life threw Tommy for a loop. Right when he needed it the least.  
  
  
******************************************************************  
  
  
Tommy was starting to look upon the upcoming gig as his "coming out." While he wasn't about to explicitly tell people he was bipolar, he was pretty positive that they would figure it out from the lyrics of the song, and for the first time ever, he held the writing credit alone.  
  
He'd shown Dr. Levine the lyrics to the song at one of his recent sessions, and the doctor had been very impressed, telling him that he was finding a productive outlet for his emotions, and that was ideal. "I told you once before that many bipolars find relief in creative professions, and it appears you have done just that. You have experienced things that are beyond most people's comprehension. Use it in your music, and educate people," the doctor told him.  
  
Tommy just smiled, and took back the sheet of lyrics. Without a doubt, he would never have been able to write these lyrics before…this song wasn't about a girl, or about how much he loved someone. They were about him, and discovering who he was.  
  
Part of discovering who he was, Tommy was finding, meant owning up to everything he'd done in the past. His first mission upon returning home had been to clean up the house, truly erase any signs of the damage he'd done in the past. Erase from sight, anyway, he'd always know in his mind what he'd done.  
  
As would his family. He'd talked to his mother a few times, and spent one afternoon with his sister and her family. Things had started out rather uncomfortably, with Lisa clearly afraid to say anything to Tommy. Until finally Tommy had blurted out, "Are you scared of me?"  
  
Lisa had been taking a sip out of a can of beer, and nearly dropped it in her surprise at the question. "What?"  
  
"You're walking on eggshells around me. What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong, I just don't want you to get sick again," Lisa answered sincerely. "Mom said…"  
  
"I didn't go over the top because of mom," Tommy said in frustration. "I went over the top because I'm bipolar."  
  
"Oh," Lisa frowned. "She thinks it was because of her."  
  
Tommy stared at his sister, filled with sadness. "No," he said softly, shaking his head. "Nobody is responsible for what happened to me, except me."  
  
"I don't want that to happen to you again."  
  
Tommy found himself fighting back tears as he told his sister, "Neither do I, Lis, neither do I."  
  
That was one of the most eye opening moments Tommy had since he got out of the hospital. He soon discovered that his mother and Lisa weren't the only people who thought that they were responsible for his actions, and set out to change that fact.  
  
Starting with one of the people he had hurt the worst.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
Leigh opened the door slowly, staring at Tommy with a mixture of confusion and fear. "Tommy? What are you…?"  
  
"Can we talk?" Tommy asked softly.  
  
"I guess," she stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her. "We can take a walk."  
  
Tommy smiled weakly, "I guess you wouldn't want to be alone in your house with me, huh?"  
  
Leigh gave a start, not expecting him to peg her reasons for the walk. "Well, I, uh…"  
  
"Don't worry, I understand," Tommy said quickly. He followed her to the road, and they walked along in silence for a few moments, before he finally said, "I owe you an apology."  
  
"An apology?"  
  
"I did some awful things to you, treated you really horribly," Tommy explained. "Things I had no right to do to you." He took a deep breath, and continued, "I know now how I made you feel, and I'm so sorry for that."  
  
Leigh's eyes widened, "wow, Tommy," she couldn't help but crack a small smile. "Nothing to be sorry for."  
  
"No," Tommy shook his head in protest. "I acted like a rapist." He stopped walking, and turned to face her, looking into her eyes. "I had no right. I was sick then, and I'm getting better now. I just wanted to tell you that."  
  
Leigh shrugged, "You're TommyJoe Ratliff. I wanted to be with you, I paid the price."  
  
Tommy frowned, "Don't excuse what I did because of who I am, that has nothing to do with it."  
  
"But…."  
  
"But nothing, Leigh! Just because I play in a band doesn't mean I can get away with that shit. It doesn't mean that it can't happen to me too," Tommy shouted, the words flying out of his mouth. "It _did_ happen to me too. I never, ever, want to make another person feel the way I feel."  
  
Leigh gasped, "What do you mean, it happened to you?"  
  
Tommy took a step back, and sighed, "You know what I mean by that."  
  
"Some guy forced you?"  
  
He shook his head slowly, "Some girl." He wasn't quite sure why he was admitting this, to Leigh of all people, maybe it was because he'd done the same to her? He needed to make her understand that what he'd done was not right.  
  
Leigh laughed, "You’re joking, right?"  
  
Tommy stared at her, his expression deadly serious. "Do I look like I'm joking?"  
  
Leigh met his eyes, before frowning, "No."  
  
"I'm sorry I made you feel the way she made me feel," he said softly. "I shouldn't have done that, and I never will again."  
  
Leigh let what Tommy said sink in before smiling lightly. "Well, I guess there's only one thing I can say to that."  
  
Tommy raised an eyebrow, "What?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
****************************************************************  
  
The day before the gig found Tommy at one of his lowest points since his release from the hospital. He had planned to spend the day alone at home, just relaxing and preparing for the gig, but his mind seemed determined to stop that from happening.  
  
"This isn't fair," Tommy whined, stomping around his house. He felt miserable. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he just felt incredibly upset, and he had no idea _why_. He'd done so much lately, gotten his life back together, fixed his relationships with his family; with the band…he had nothing to feel so bad about.  
  
But he did. He felt awful.  
  
Tommy threw himself down onto a couch and covered his face with his hands, fighting back tears. He'd been religiously taking his medication, and had convinced himself that it was really and truly working. But now this.  
  
Dammit!  
  
He groaned when he heard the doorbell ring, and shuffled over, peeking his head outside to see who would dare bother him. "What."  
  
"Hey Tommy." It was Isaac. "Just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out?"  
  
"No," Tommy said flatly. He went to close the door, but Isaac dashed in before he could, receiving an angry glare from Tommy for his efforts. "What do you want?"  
  
"Nothing," Isaac shrugged. "We just haven't hung out a lot lately, just you and me, you know? Thought maybe we could today."  
  
"I don't want to," Tommy trudged back to the living room and flopped down onto the couch.  
  
"Wanna play a game or something?" Isaac was not to be put off so easily.  
  
"No."  
  
"Go get a bite?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Shopping?"  
  
Tommy looked at Isaac dimly, "Since when do you _like_ to go shopping?"  
  
Isaac gave him a goofy smile, "Trying to cheer you up, Tommy."  
  
"Stop trying."  
  
"Is this what you're supposed to do?" Isaac asked him in frustration. "You get upset like this, and you're just supposed to sit there and wallow in it? Is that what they taught you in that hospital?"  
  
Tommy scowled, and shook his head slowly, "No."  
  
"So what are you supposed to do?"  
  
"Fight it."  
  
"Then why aren't you?"  
  
"Because I don't feel like it!" Tommy shouted angrily. "It's not fair, Isaac! I have to fight my own head when I get like this, and it's so hard, so goddamn hard, you have no idea! I don't want to. I want to sit here and feel sorry for myself. I don't want to force myself to go do something I know full well I won't enjoy doing. I _can’t_ enjoy doing it, not when I'm like this."  
  
"You're not alone, Tommy," Isaac said softly.  
  
Tommy's head shot up, and he looked at Isaac in surprise. "What?"  
  
"You'll never be alone, don't you understand that? You have friends and family who love you, who care about you, and we'll do anything to help you through this."  
  
" _This_ will never go away," Tommy said in frustration. "Are you really always going to be so willing to help?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Tommy looked at Isaac doubtfully, "Yeah, right."  
  
"I mean it," Isaac said firmly. "Yes. If you need to hang out with me at 4am, call. I will always be here."  
  
Tommy snorted, and rolled his eyes, "if you only knew how much I might have taken you up on that before."  
  
Isaac smiled, "That's what friends are for."  
  
"Right."  
  
"So, now…PS3? Food? What?"  
  
Tommy sighed, "Food, I guess, I don't feel like moving."  
  
"Food it is."  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
A few hours later, Tommy felt a thousand times better, and was actually feeling genuinely happy as he sat on the beach, staring out at the ocean. "Thanks, Isaac."  
  
"I told you, anytime, Tommy," Isaac replied.  
  
The two sat in silence for a while, until Tommy finally asked, "Are you guys really OK with what we're doing tomorrow?"  
  
"You wrote an amazing song, of course we are all right with it," Isaac nodded. "This is who you are, right?"  
  
"That's what the song says," Tommy said softly.  
  
"Then we're doing the right thing."  
  
"Yeah, but…" Tommy sighed. "It's gonna be awful, you know that. Jokes and stuff."  
  
"If you can take them, Tommy, we all can," Isaac said, looking at Tommy. "Can you? I mean, they're going to be directed at you."  
  
Tommy laughed, "One thing Brian's been great for has been throwing every joke he can think of at me. I've heard them all by now." He'd continued talking to Brian quite a bit over the last few weeks, and was starting to appreciate his caustic sense of humor. Brian had done wonders at forcing him to develop a hard outer layer, to listen to the insults and jokes and let them roll right off of him. "I can deal."  
  
"Will Brian be there tomorrow?"  
  
Tommy nodded, "Yeah."  
  
"Cool," Isaac smiled. "See, another way you're not alone. You have him."  
  
Tommy snorted, "I don't know if I'd call him a friend."  
  
"Of course he is," Isaac laughed. "Maybe not the kind of friend who will hold your hand and stuff, but anyone who listens to you, and is there for you like he has been, is truly your friend."  
  
"I guess."  
  
Isaac looked at Tommy for a moment, before asking hesitantly, "Can I ask you a weird question?"  
  
Tommy shrugged, "I guess?"  
  
"If you could do this all over again, be reborn and all that, would you want to be bipolar?"  
  
Tommy stared at Isaac, considering the question. God, what a question. He chewed on his bottom lip as he thought, before nodding, "Yes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I question things now," Tommy said softly. "I see everything in a different way, a way that someone like you, or Adam, never can."  
  
"How so?" Isaac asked, curious.  
  
"Most people just go through life doing what they do, without ever thinking why they do it. Me, Brian, anyone like us…we have to question. We look at people around us and see them doing things because of their emotions, and just laugh, knowing that it's something we'd never do. Or try not to ever do, anyway. I think that's ultimately a good thing," he smiled. "Having that extra layer, making sure that you're doing the right thing, that it's a sane, rational decision, and not one made because you're upset or you're manic."  
  
"That's true," Isaac agreed. "I can't say I ever question why I do much of anything."  
  
"Because you don't have to," Tommy replied, looking at Isaac with bright eyes. "That's good, I mean, you're not nuts like us. But the fact that we do question, I think, leads us to make better decisions in the long run." He took a deep breath, and ran his hand through his hair, still thinking. "I also think…what I was told in the hospital was right."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Like my song, you know? I can write about emotions in a way that nobody else really can. Nobody else has really experienced it. But I've been about as high as anyone can go, and as low. Soared to the highest of heights," he laughed. "And to the deepest of depths."  
  
"You're becoming quite a poet, Tommy," Isaac remarked with a small laugh.  
  
"Naw, just saying what I've felt," Tommy shrugged. "I couldn't have written that song without having gone through what I have. I wouldn't have known how to describe it. I just understand a lot now that I never did."  
  
"Interesting."  
  
"Hey, Isaac?"  
  
"Yup?"  
  
"Do you know if Eddie Vedder was ever in a mental hospital?" Tommy asked. He laughed at Isaac's surprised expression and grinned, "There are a couple of songs I need to play for you that he's written."  
  
"Jeremy?"  
  
"No way," Tommy shook his head. "That's a great song and all, but….it goes back to what I was saying. How do you find the words unless you've been through it?"  
  
"What words?"  
  
"'I'm still alive.'" Tommy blinked back tears, and smiled widely. "Do you get it, Isaac? I did it. I'm here. Despite everything, I'm still alive."  
  
Isaac stared at Tommy, before launching himself at him, grabbing him in a tight hug. "I'm glad you are, Tommy."  
  
"I'm still alive, and tomorrow I'm going to tell the world why."  
  
*******************************************************************  
  
Tommy jumped out of bed the next morning, grinning from ear to ear. This was it. They were going to debut his song today, tell the world who Tommy was, _and_ …he smiled wider at the thought. He was going to meet Tempest.  
  
He practically danced his way to the bathroom, quickly taking a shower and getting dressed. He was spinning around the kitchen making coffee, when his cellphone rang. Tommy grabbed the phone, still beaming, "hello?"  
  
"Is this Tommy Ratliff?"  
  
Tommy frowned, not recognizing the voice on the other end. Who would have this number?  
"Yeah…"  
  
"Tommy, this is Taurus. From the website."  
  
"Woah," Tommy sat down in a chair, his eyes widening in surprise. "Why are you calling me?" Why now? Why…  
  
"I'm calling about Tempest."  
  
Tommy's stomach sank through the floor, and a feeling of dread crept over him. "Oh no…"  
  
A loud sigh was heard, before Taurus told him softly, "You know that she'd been unstable for a while, right? Her medication had stopped working, and she was trying some new options."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Tommy whispered, staring blankly at the floor, all of his concentration on the soft words coming through the phone.  
  
"They didn't work."  
  
"What are you telling me?"  
  
"Tempest…"  
  
"Julia," Tommy interrupted. "Her name is Julia."  
  
"Julia died last night."  
  
Tommy began to shake, as his eyes filled with tears. "Oh fuck no, but she was OK, she'd been ok…what happened?"  
  
"Did you talk to her last night?" Taurus asked him.  
  
"No," Tommy started to cry, and he rested his elbows on the table, suddenly without the strength to hold up his body. "I was with Isaac."  
  
"She wasn't thinking straight, she was depressed, and she didn't want to be depressed for today."  
  
"Today would have made her feel better, she would have seen Adam!"  
  
"She overdosed on her medication."  
  
" _No_!" Tommy shouted into the phone, filled with a horrible combination of anger and sorrow. "She wanted to meet Adam, she was going to! She would have been fine!"  
  
"She thought that if she took more of her pills, maybe they'd work more."  
  
"It doesn't work that way!"  
  
"I know that, you know that," Taurus said softly. "Julia wasn't thinking straight."  
  
"No, damnit, she couldn't have killed herself, she didn't want to," Tommy began to sob, banging his head on the table in frustration. "I just wanted to meet her."  
  
"I'm sorry, Tommy."  
  
"Why did she have to die? She was going to be all right! She was going to make it!"  
  
"You know I can't answer that," Taurus said consolingly. "Just know that it's not your fault. You were a good friend to her."  
  
"But…"  
  
"People with what we have die, Tommy," Taurus interrupted him. "You know that."  
  
"Not her!"  
  
"She was in a major depression."  
  
"She was on medication! That wasn't supposed to happen!"  
  
"It happens."  
  
Tommy began breathing heavily, growing more and more upset. "What do you mean it happens? I'm a fucking time bomb, is that what you're saying? It could happen to me? It happened to her?"  
  
"You know this, Tommy, I'm not telling you anything new."  
  
"But I'm _alive_!"  
  
"For now," Taurus said softly. "And that's something to be very proud of."  
  
"Oh fuck you."  
  
"I mean that, Tommy."  
  
Tommy opened his mouth to reply, and then stopped. He frowned, and looked at the phone curiously. "Your voice is very familiar," he said cautiously.  
  
"Is it?"  
  
" _Very_ familiar."  
  
"Can't see why…"  
  
"Who are you?" Tommy asked, trying to remember where he'd heard that voice before. It was right on the tip of his tongue, he knew it…  
  
"I should let you go; you have that press conference today. I just wanted you to know why she wouldn't be there."  
  
"No way, you're not letting me go yet," Tommy sniffled, and ran a hand through his hair as he thought. "I've met you, haven't I?"  
  
"Have you?"  
  
"Julia said she thought you were a celebrity."  
  
Taurus chuckled. "Celebrity?"  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"I wish I had the nerve to do what you're doing today, Tommy," Taurus said sincerely. "I hide online, behind my website and this nickname. I wish you all the luck in the world."  
  
" _Who are you_?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. I'm just another bipolar, just trying to live. Just like you."  
  
"Just like Julia," Tommy shot back angrily. Just like Tori, like Kate, like Brian….trudging through life, hoping they could hang on to sanity enough to make it to the next day.  
  
"Yes. We're exactly like Julia."  
  
"I'm doing this for her, you know," Tommy nearly choked on his tears, and stopped to take a deep breath. "She shouldn't think she's alone. I have this, a lot of us have this. She was supposed to know."  
  
"You'll be helping a lot of other Julia’s out there," Taurus said slowly.  
  
"Why don't you?"  
  
"I…can't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
A sigh, then, "Nobody knows about me."  
  
Tommy frowned, "So tell them."  
  
"They wouldn't be so understanding, they just think I'm eccentric, I'm hyper, they don't know…"  
  
"So you hide?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Coward."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Tommy wiped off his tears, and glared at the phone. "That's it, then? You accept that you're afraid, and don't care. She wanted more from us, you know that. She was never afraid to face who she was."  
  
"She's dead, Tommy."  
  
"Fuck you, yes she's dead!" Tommy shouted. "I can't believe that, this whole press conference today, I'm doing it for her! And now she won't be here to see, she's never gonna know…"  
  
"I'll know," Taurus said slowly. "Bipolars the world over will know. And we'll all thank you for it."  
  
"Stand up with me, then," Tommy challenged.  
  
"But…" Taurus stammered. "You don't even know who I am."  
  
"Are you in LA? Can you get here by this afternoon? I'll buy you a plane ticket if you need one. Come with me."  
  
"You don't know what you're asking."  
  
"Yes, I do," Tommy said firmly. "Any question you have in your mind, believe me, I've thought of it."  
  
"I can't…"  
  
"You can."  
  
"I have to go, Tommy, I have other phone calls to make," Taurus said quickly.  
  
"Be there, Taurus. If not for me, or for everyone out there you say will thank me, than for Julia. She was never ashamed. Don't be," Tommy said, before he heard a click. Taurus had hung up.  
Tommy rested his head on the table, feeling his sobs overtake him. She was dead. She had killed herself….after everything…Julia was dead.  
  
He sniffled, and sighed. Well, it just emphasized everything he'd already thought.  
  
He was still alive.  
  
It just felt more and more like an achievement, every day.  
  
Strange, wasn't it?  
  
****************************************************************  
  
Tommy was, admittedly, a mess. He would stop crying, only to think of Tempest/Julia again, and burst into tears all over again. He couldn't believe what had happened; he couldn't believe she'd done that….how?? Today of all days, she was supposed to be here, she was going to meet Adam, everything was going to be just fine.  
  
But she was dead. She'd become another statistic. Another bipolar who hadn't made it to the age of 30.  
  
"Come on, pretty boy, stop your wailing," Brian chided him. "One less Adam Lambert fan, the world will survive."  
  
Tommy glared at Brian angrily, "You didn't just say that."  
  
"Sure, I didn't," Brian rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"It's like when Tori offed herself, man, what can you do?" Brian asked. "Yeah, she killed herself. Yeah, you could be next. But what are you going to do about it? Grieve for her if you gotta, but don't beat yourself up about it. Go on. You're about to go out there and do something pretty damn cool. So stop fucking up your makeup."  
  
Tommy couldn't help but laugh his last words, "I guess I am, huh."  
  
"Yeah. And trust me, you need it."  
  
Tommy looked at himself in the mirror, winkling his nose. "I hate how I look today."  
  
"Nah, you are such a pretty boy…"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"My pleasure."  
  
Tommy grabbed the stack of note cards he'd carefully written his speech on, and looked at them closely. "You know what?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"This is bullshit," he tossed the cards into the garbage. "Fuck what my manager wants me to say, fuck the prepared shit. I'm just gonna talk."  
  
Brian laughed, and clapped eagerly, "Go Tommy, go Tommy."  
  
"You know management nearly killed us when we told them what we're doing?"  
  
Brian shrugged, "Who cares. The fans like you, not your manager."  
  
"True," Tommy smiled lightly.  
  
"Say what you feel. That's all that matters," Brian said sincerely."Now tell me about her," he looked at Sophie across the room with a leer. "I want a piece of that."  
  
"Don't you dare," Tommy groaned. "She's taken."  
  
"So?"  
  
"And that's sick."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because she's, shit, Sophie!" Tommy whined, before laughing again. "Ok, now you cheered me up. Happy?"  
  
"Very. Ready to go shock the world?"  
  
Tommy nodded. "Very."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
They walked on the stage, amidst the sound of screams. Each took their place, smiling at the people gathered. When the screams finally died down a bit, Tommy pulled his microphone close, and cleared his throat. "Hi."  
  
He started laughing when the screams began anew, and shook his head. "Look guys, can you try to keep it down a little? I got something to say tonight."  
  
Tommy waited, again, for the screams to stop, before taking a deep breath. His eyes scanned the small venue as he spoke, taking in the hundreds of people gathered. "I had a speech all planned for tonight, but rather than that, I think I'm gonna tell you a story." He smiled weakly, before continuing. "A few months ago, I met a very special girl, named Julia. Julia helped me understand a lot of things about my life, and helped me learn to deal with what was happening to me. In her own life, Julia wasn't the happiest of people. She had a crush on Adam here, you see," he stopped as screams broke out, and shot a look at Adam who was sitting at a table with his boyfriend and some of his friends.  
  
"Me?" Adam mouthed, surprised. Tommy had never told him that.  
  
"Not that there's anything wrong with liking Adam, well, actually," Tommy grinned. "There's a lot wrong with that. But ultimately, whatever, like what you want to. But she thought that there _was_ something wrong with her because of it. What she was missing, was that she was a wonderful, caring, and understanding person, who had a ton of great qualities in her own right. That one thing in her life didn't define her. She was made of a lot more."  
  
Tommy stopped to take a shaky breath, and continued. "Julia was not ashamed to be who she was. Mind you, part of that was because she thought it didn't matter, but ultimately, she was proud to stand up for herself. She would tell anyone who listened about her life, about what she liked, what she didn't like, and about the things she'd been through to get to where she was. That helped me, more than I can ever express. And that is the reason I'm here now."  
  
Tommy bowed his head for a moment, and when he raised it again, there were tears in his eyes. "Julia will never know what I'm doing here today, and that I'm doing it for her, and for people like her all around the world. I _was_ ashamed of who I am, and I was terrified to admit it. But with her help, my family's help, and the help of these guys here sitting with me, I'm here today."  
  
His eyes widened as he noticed a man walk into the back of the room, and he stared at him for a pause as a smile broke across his face. Taurus. He knew it. He fucking knew it. "We're here with Adam today to announce his new album and debut his new single. But I'm here to stand up for who I am, and to play the song I've written. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed anymore. I'm ashamed of my behavior before I knew what I was. Now? I'm just glad I've made it through."  
  
Isaac patted Tommy on the back, smiling at him. "We're glad too, Tommy."  
  
Tommy sniffled, and wiped a lone tear from his eye. "My name is Tommy Joe Ratliff, and I have a mental illness. I'm bipolar. So are tons of other people around the world, all like I was, living in fear of being found out." He raised his head high, and smiled. "I'm not going to live in fear anymore. Because I'm alive." He sighed, and stood up. "And on that note, we'd like our new song for you. This is The Story of a Son."  
  
Tommy couldn't help but wave at the man standing in the back of the room, and a gasp of surprise went through the room when they all recognized him.  
  
"Ready?" Ravi asked softly.  
  
Tommy nodded, and smiled. "Ready."  
  
Isaac counted off the beat, and Ravi began to sing, accompanied by his band.  
  
Anything is possible, the mother tells her son.  
The world is yours to conquer, you're a remarkable one.  
The son believes her, thinking she must know best.  
Little does he know he's to be put to the test.  
Before long the son's life is flipped up on end.  
He's a hit, he's a star, but he hates it all then.  
How can he do this? Why can't he see?  
The world's at his fingertips, why can't he just be.  
_Mother, why can't you help me?  
Mother, why did you lie?  
Anything is possible, he shouts and he screams.  
But the demons in my head won't let me be me. _  
Darkness consumes to be blasted away,  
When his head starts to race, there's no getting away.  
Logic is lost, all clear thought mislaid,  
As disease takes him over, his mind slips away.  
He was losing control, he knew it so well.  
The people he hurt could easily tell.  
He left at that point, from the world that he knew.  
Run away from his mind, he thought as he flew.  
_Mother, why can't you help me?  
Mother, why did you lie?  
Anything is possible, he shouts and he screams.  
But the demons in my head won't let me be me. _  
The son soon finds family just won't let you go.  
When your mind starts to crack, it does start to show.  
Help, they said, is what you do need.  
Take your pills son, and you'll find your relief.  
The son was getting better, but still not at peace.  
The world he'd seen had left him ill at ease.  
He'd been raped and abused, no help did he find.  
Searching for sanity nearly cost him his mind.  
_Mother, why can't you help me?  
Mother, why did you lie?  
Anything is possible, he shouts and he screams.  
But the demons in my head won't let me be m_ e.  
Then one day, it became clear to the son  
That he's far from alone, not the only one.  
He could live with this, and face what he'd done.  
He was alive, after all, and that meant he'd won.  
That was when the true healing began.  
Facing up to his past, the son became a man.  
The future he knows, is murky to see.  
The world in his head is not safe, or free.  
But he has seen the worst, and survived from sheer will.  
And that is what matters, not a little white pill.  
_Mother, I know now you helped me.  
Mother I know now you didn't lie.  
Anything is possible, it's true now, I see.  
The demons in my head?  
They have made me…me. _  
  
As the last note died out, stunned silence fell over the group. Nobody had expected that type of song.  
  
Always one to make a scene, Brian jumped up, grinning from ear to ear. "They made me too," he proudly announced, looking out at the crowd.  
  
"Me too," a fan in the audience stood up, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"Me too," Another fan chimed in.  
  
The man in the back stepped forward, tears darkening his own brown eyes. "Me too," Trent Reznor said, looking at Tommy with a soft smile. "Me too."  
  
**The End**  
  
---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story…I've never written anything like this before in my life, and I don't know if I ever will try to do something like this again. It sure wasn't easy. See…I have got depression and it’s possible that I am bipolar, and this story was not totally fiction. Every single character and event in this story was real. I'm, pretty much, Tommy in the story. There is a Kate, there is a Julia, there is a Brian, and a Tori (or was, in some cases). The names and celebrities involved were changed (i.e. the person Tempest/Julia was based on was not obsessed with Adam Lambert), events flipped around a little to fit the story, but everything really did happen, mostly not to me, but to friends of mine. Stories like this one are probably happening all around you every day.  
> I wrote this, ultimately, because I got sick and tired of people not understanding what I am actually going through. People joking around "I'm feeling a little depressed/bipolar today," people asking "Isn't that the same as mental retardation?" I decided to explain this in a way I knew how….by writing it.
> 
> The other is to point out, in the most obvious way possible, that anyone can have this. In this story, Tommy does, as does Trent.
> 
> In real life, so does Tim Burton, Linda Hamilton, Axl Rose, Sting, Carrie Fisher, Macy Gray, Ozzy Osbourne, Sinead 'O Connor, Robert Downey Jr., Ben Stiller, Francis Ford Coppola, Peter Gabriel, Tom Waits, the list goes on and on. And those are just the people who have publicly stated they have bipolar disorder. There are many who have experienced unipolar depression… and even more who suffer in silence.
> 
> People with mental illnesses are normal functioning people, who hold jobs and live just like the rest of the world. Some of us have fought some pretty major battles in our lives, and some of us just have more battles ahead of us. Fact is…we don't know. Diagnosis can come, when you're 18, or as it did for Patty Duke, when you're in your mid-30's. As pointed out in the story, nobody ever _really_ tries to diagnose someone as mentally ill until they stop functioning normally in their own lives. And by then it's really too late, isn't it?
> 
> Diagnosis is also not a cure. There is no cure. The battle never ends, and every day is a new battle won. Every insult just makes that day's fight just a little bit harder, the shame that much greater.
> 
> Maybe we can recognize the signs earlier. Maybe we can make it easier to handle having a mental illness. It's a disease like any other, one with a very high mortality rate. But it's not treated like any other, is it?
> 
> Open your eyes. Maybe you'll learn something. Maybe you'll save someone's life.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: breatherepeat . This story and I owe her a lot. Without her, none of this would be possible. I love you!  
> 


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